Twist of Fate
by Lisette
Summary: Complete - BtVSPretender - Brought to Sunnydale to help solve the mystery of the graduation day bombing of Sunnydale High, Jarod and the Scoobies are quickly entwined in a race to save the Chosen One.
1. Chapter 1

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 1  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** The television series, _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and _The Pretender_, and all related characters and material belong to a lot of important people. I am not one of these important people. I claim ownership solely of the story idea, and no profit will be made by this.

**Author's Note:** This story is set in the BtVS universe the summer after high school graduation (between the third and fourth season), and in the Pretender universe it is placed in the 4th season, after Jarod's second escape from the Centre and during Mr. Parker's absence. Also - head to my website to find a music video and artwork for this story: www dot equinoxium dot com / tof / images dot aspx

**Brief Description:** BtVS/Pretender Crossover: Brought to Sunnydale to help solve the mystery of the graduation day bombing of Sunnydale High, Jarod and the Scoobies are quickly entwined in a race to save the Chosen One.

**Rating:** R for Content

* * *

**Twist of Fate**

Sunnydale High School, Sunnydale, California

As the fierce noonday sunshine beat down on the town of Sunnydale, California, children rocketed up and down the residential streets, mothers pushed their heavy strollers down the cracked sidewalks, birds chattered in the gently swaying palms, and above all else, a sense of peace, tranquility, and normalcy radiated from the neighborhood that flanked the devastated ruins of Sunnydale High School - a black and towering mar on the beautiful scenery of southern California.

From a sea of primly cut green grass, the black, charred ruins of the once-beautiful high school rose up like a spindly thorn from a beautiful flower. The red clay so common to southern California had been baked with a heat so intense that it had cracked and shattered, leaving a mere husk in the school's place - an ugly scar that would always stain the soil there.

"Terrible sight, ain't it?" a matronly woman asked from beneath the shady fronds of a row of palm trees that faced the devastation.

"Yes, it is," came the solemn response of the stranger that stood beside her, his eyes fixed on the devastation. "Why don't they tear it down?"

Narrowing her gaze, the woman inspected the stranger. She had been watching him for awhile now as he stood sheltered under a swaying palm, staring up at the school. Always staring at the building as if the silent walls could speak to him and tell him what had happened on that fateful day just a short month ago - the day when the summer day turned black as night and when hell had reigned, even if momentarily, on her neighborhood. A day that ended in fire. "A reminder, I suppose," she finally answered, matching his level gaze. She saw intelligence in his large brown eyes - intelligence and compassion that she found reassuring.

He was tall, this man - this stranger - probably in his thirties, with spiked brown hair and a physique that spoke of the healthy California lifestyle her son had so freely embraced. With a crisply pressed white shirt, black tie and trousers, he looked ready to play the part of any number of professions that her imagination could supply. But in short, this handsome man was no threat to her neighborhood.

"A reminder of what?"

At this, the woman smiled slowly, almost painfully as she unconsciously reached up to finger the locket that hung around her wrinkled throat. Within the locket was a picture of her Harry - the son she had lost to a bizarre animal attack just a short while ago. Rabid hyenas. Who had ever heard of such a thing? "A reminder that sometimes, even the days aren't safe here in Sunnydale," she murmured as she turned away, lost in memories of her only son.

Nodding, Jarod watched the woman slowly wander back towards her home before turning his eyes once more to the ruins. "A reminder," he murmured, his thoughts far away as he reached down and withdrew a slim red notebook from a small satchel that he carried. With practiced ease, he flipped through the crisp white pages until he came to a newspaper clipping that had been glued onto one of the pages.

**TWELVE MISSING, FIVE CONFIRMED DEAD IN HIGH SCHOOL BOMBING**

The brazen headline screamed at him from the page as he compared the grainy black and white picture to the sight that lay before him. The picture didn't do it any justice at all. The horror was much more real in person.

Sighing, Jarod tore his eyes away from the high school ruins and flipped the page to yet another newspaper article, clipped with the same precision as the last. This one featured a headline much smaller, more personal, almost as if a side note: **Mayor suspected in Graduation-day terror - wanted for questioning.** Jarod quickly scanned the smiling picture of the man featured in the article: Mayor John Wilkins. MIA. Missing in action since the bombing.

Shaking his head, Jarod quickly snapped the notebook shut and returned it to the satchel. It was time to get to work. Grabbing the handles, Jarod quickly trotted back to his rented sedan as he smoothly flipped open a thin black wallet and inspected the silver shield within. "Special Agent Jarod Ness, reporting for duty," he murmured as he slipped into the car, tossing the satchel carelessly onto the passenger seat beside him. And with another quick glance at the ruins behind him, Jarod smoothly pulled away into the famous southern California sunshine. He had work to do.

* * *

Sighing, Buffy lazily lifted the bottle of lukewarm water to her lips as the images danced in front of her eyes, feeling her brain go numb and her eyes begin to glaze as she lounged on the long couch, her tanned legs dangling off the edge. It was only three weeks into summer vacation, June already slowly melting into July, and the boredom that accompanied those dreadful and much awaited summer months had already set in. Three weeks since Graduation Day - three weeks filled with countless days of mall hopping, movie-going, sun bathing, and the current past time: channel surfing.

"Ooh, wait go back!" Buffy cried quickly, snapping from her reverie and surprising everyone in the room as she snatched the remote from Xander's hand. "I've seen this one," she added as she quickly snapped the channel back to a rerun of _I Dream of Genie_.

"Aw, not this!" Xander whined as he briefly entertained thoughts of making a grab for the remote. Then, as common sense kicked in, he slowly settled back into the recliner and accepted his doom. When it came to the Slayer, a match of physical might wasn't even worth the effort of labeling it a contest. After all, as Giles often liked to quote, _In every generation, there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer_ - or in this case, the queen of the remote control and he damned to eternal torment and suffering at the hands of some broad in pink satin and a fluffy blond pony tail. Grimacing, he quickly suppressed a shudder.

At first the group had hung tight, but the inevitable pull of summer had slowly broken them apart: Angel disappearing the day of Graduation, Cordelia taking off to L.A. soon after, Oz touring with the Dingoes, and Anya probably still running in terror from the now very-deceased Mayor. In the end, only the core-Scoobies were left to suffer through an interminable summer of boredom. But even that was bound to change if Xander ever did follow through with his threat to leave them all behind for his much-tooted road trip.

"When's your Mom coming back?" Willow asked, her voice a low monotone as her eyes remained fixed on the television in Buffy's living room, obviously asking more to fill the dead silence than actual curiosity.

"Whenever Grandma feels well enough again to be on her own," Buffy answered off-hand as she reached for a bag of chips. "A month, at the latest," she added in between mouthfuls of food, an occasional grin breaking through at the antics of the characters laid out before her.

"Which, let me say again," Xander threw in as he ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair, "is _way_ cool." And then, as if the proverbial light bulb had suddenly flashed on, Xander bolted from his seat on the recliner to pace before the girls, each straining and twisting to see around his lean form. "Wait a minute here - getting an idea," he muttered, oblivious to the girls' dilemma. "Yep, definitely an idea," he added as a large grin caused dimples to form in each cheek. With a triumphant cry he quickly stopped and faced both girls, effectively and hopelessly blocking their view. "I'm thinking severe party potential here!"

Sighing, Buffy finally gave up on the television and narrowed her sharp green eyes on her friend. "And invite who?" she asked, arching one slim eyebrow as she crossed her tanned arms indignantly across her chest.

At this, Xander's smile faltered for a moment as he so obviously wracked his brain for an answer. "Well, there's..." he trailed off as his smile faltered once more before dimming into a hopeless scowl. "Damn! Foiled again!" he cursed as he reluctantly skulked back to the chair he had claimed as his own. "But I'm so _bored!"_ he moaned.

Smiling sympathetically at her friend, Willow quickly brushed a wave of red from her shoulder as she reached for the remote and tossed it over. "Here Xander, you can pick," she offered, throwing Buffy a meaningful look in response to her glare.

Sighing, Buffy took the hint and relented control of the valued tool. Feeling her mind begin to buzz and grow numb once more, she gently began massaging her forehead with one hand as she aimlessly picked at the thin strap of her red cotton tank with the other.

"Ooh look, _Three's Company_," Xander crowed as he finally settled on a station.

Biting back her groan, Buffy quickly jumped to her feet, stretching stiff muscles. "That's it, I can't take anymore!" she declared as she gestured quickly to the television. "I'm going to Giles' house!" she cried over her shoulder as she turned for the door. "Maybe he's found a prophecy foretelling some great evil or something," she muttered as she stepped out in the baking midday heat.

"That'd be cool," she heard Xander quip as he came bounding out the door behind her.

"At least it'd be _something!_" Willow agreed as she shut the door behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 2  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

Opening the door to the bustling precinct, Jarod stepped in as if he owned the place. With a direct gaze that didn't stray to the odd assortment of criminals and officers, he moved across the vast sea of linoleum and stepped up to the scarred wooden counter, dropping his heavy satchel before him with a resounding thud.

Startled, the portly desk sergeant looked up from his computer screen, his bushy white brows arching up beneath a receding hairline as he took the man in. From his neatly pressed black trousers to the starchly ironed white shirt and black tie, the man all but screamed Fed. Biting back his sigh, the sergeant watched as the man flipped open a badge while smoothly tucking his sunglasses into his pocket with the other.

"Special Agent Jarod Ness," the man introduced, his smile oddly bright and friendly.

"Let me guess," the sergeant drawled, ignoring the man's charm, his eyes narrowing slightly, "you're here about the bombing," he continued, making it more of a statement than a question.

"Yes," Jarod affirmed as he took in the man's open hostility. After playing an FBI Agent on several previous occasions, he had almost come to expect the hostility that local law enforcement agents directed towards other areas of law enforcement - especially when those areas were Federal and when they were encroaching upon somebody else's case. Then again, he couldn't help but hope each time that it would be different. "Who's in charge?" he asked, meeting the man's gaze briefly before turning away to survey the empty area behind the desk.

"Detective Jackson," came a curt reply from behind Jarod, causing him to swivel quickly to face the tall man who eyed him with the same detachment as the desk sergeant.

"Detective Jackson? Special Agent-"

"Ness," the man replied for Jarod, waving away his extended hand as he turned to lead him back into the bull pen of the precinct. "I know. We received notification from your offices this morning. We've been expecting you," he added as he led Jarod into a small, darkly cramped office. Waving off-handedly towards a pitted chair, the Detective quickly sunk into his swivel chair, his hands leafing through a pile of loose papers. Then, apparently finding what he was looking for, he scooped up a thick folder and tossed it to Jarod. "That's what we have so far."

Noting the man's apathy and taking it as a better sign than open hostility, Jarod smiled his thanks before flipping open the folder and perusing the contents. "So the school was definitely bombed?" he asked, his eyes quickly scanning the information.

"Yeah, among the confirmed dead were one parent, two teachers, four students, and the principal..." the Detective agreed, slowly leaning back in his chair as a grimace contorted his face. "Well, parts of principal."

"Parts?" Jarod asked, glancing up to meet the man's eyes.

"Yeah," the Detective continued, obviously warming up to his subject, "it looked like he was eaten or something."

"Eaten?" Jarod reaffirmed, his mind quickly running through the possibilities as he stumbled across a crime scene photo of what appeared to be an arm. "And a bomb did this?" he asked, trying to add up all of the facts and quickly coming up short.

"Most of it," the cop sighed, his obvious weariness beginning to show. "We're still working on the rest of the story."

Noting this, Jarod nodded in understanding. After all, in the years that he had been running from the Centre, he had played this man's part more times than he wanted to count. "And the missing?" he asked, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand.

"Twelve - mainly students and Mayor Wilkins," the detective replied.

"And he's the Chief Suspect?" Jarod continued, glancing away from the notes and recalling the tidbit he had learned from the news reports on the way over - the news reports and the glaring headline that helped to bring him to this sleepy California town.

At this, the detective paused for the briefest of moments as he glanced away to the small window that afforded a slatted view of the late afternoon. Idly, he reached up to adjust the striped tie that was knotted tightly at his throat, almost nervously loosening it before tightening it once more. "Officially," was his final reply as his eyes slowly dragged back to focus on Jarod's curious face.

"Officially?" Jarod questioned, his attention shifting from the bland reports to the man that was seated across from him, taking in his evident hesitation and nervous gestures. "I don't understand - the newspaper said that there was evidence-"

"Evidence that the Mayor was up to something, yes," the detective interrupted as his eyes narrowed on Jarod, shrewdly taking him in for the first time, from the spiked brown hair to his highly shined black loafers. "We found some documents in the Mayor's office alluding to some... cult practices," he finished slowly, obviously waiting for Jarod's reaction. A reaction that he never received.

Filing away the new information, Jarod merely nodded his head as he waited for the detective to continue. When he offered nothing else, Jarod once more shifted his attention back to the folder perched in his lap. "So then he's being wanted for questioning," he guessed.

"No - presumed dead," the detective admitted, shifting his gaze away from Jarod's questioning glance. "Among the wreckage we found his clothing... torn apart."

"I see," came Jarod's slow response as he tried to digest this newest bit of information. So all in all, he had just landed himself in a case where a high school was bombed during their graduation commencement, where parents, students, and even the principal were killed and many more came up missing... and the lead suspect was a Mayor who dealt in the occult and who didn't even survive the bombing. Sighing, Jarod allowed a small grim smile as he snapped the file shut. "Would you mind if I borrow this for a bit?" he asked, indicating the file as climbed to his feet.

"Be my guest," came the detective's indifferent response, and Jarod stuffed the folder into his already bulging satchel. "And where are you staying while here in Sunnydale?"

"The Sunnydale Motel - just checked in this morning," Jarod explained. "Why do you ask?" he asked, slipping out his sunglasses once again.

"No reason," the detective smirked, a glint of amusement entering his eyes, "just watch out for the cockroaches," he laughed as he attempted his first smile, finally offering his hand.

Smiling, Jarod accepted and shook firmly. "Don't worry, I've seen worse," he murmured, his eyes turning away to unpleasant memories. Shaking the troubling thoughts away, he went to pull his hand back as the other man tightened his grip, his eyes turning serious once more.

"You seem like a decent guy," the detective began again, squeezing slightly to ensure that he had Jarod's attention. "Just be sure to stick to the populated areas after dark and you'll do alright here in Sunnydale. We may be a small town, but we have a history with... gangs on PCP," he finished lamely before finally releasing his hand to turn and stare out his small window, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

"Yes well, thanks again," Jarod murmured, more out of courtesy than anything else, knowing the detective hadn't heard him. As a deep uneasiness settled over him, Jarod let himself out of the office and then found his way from the precinct. As he stepped into the hot California sunshine, the unease only seemed to grow. There was something off about this town. Something that just set his nerves on end and caused the fine hairs on the back of his neck to prickle...

And then, like a spell that was broken, Jarod grinned and laughed at himself, no doubt catching the attention of the odd pedestrian or two as he strolled to his rental and threw his satchel within. He had one more stop to make before returning to the motel for the night.

* * *

"Are you sure that there's _nothing_ going on?" Buffy asked from her sprawled spot on his frumpy couch for what seemed to Giles to be the hundredth time since she and the others had dropped in earlier that day.

"Yes, Buffy, as much as I am able to be, I can assure you that I haven't been able to find anything amiss," he answered once again as he placed another, newly dusted tome, back onto his shelves. "And if you all are really _that_ bored, you can surely get off of that couch, turn off that accursed television, and help me with these books," he continued, tipping his head to glare at the trio over his glasses.

"Ah, but Giles," Xander broke in, his eyes never straying from the small console, "we didn't even know that you _owned_ a TV - the poor thing has probably suffered long enough already from misuse. How can we condone such a thing?"

"Of course," Giles sighed, knowing a losing battle when he saw one. "Well if you must know, I have been tracking the vampiric activity and-"

"And you've found a pattern of some sort?" Willow asked quickly, visibly perking as she hurried over to turn off the television. "Anything you need us to research? Cause you know, research girl and all!" she quipped as Buffy and Xander both protested weakly at her words.

"I never said I was _that_ bored!" Buffy quickly added as her nose crinkled in disgust. Then, as if reevaluating her boredom, she resignedly shook her head. "Okay, not there yet but quickly leading towards that doom," she allowed.

Shaking his head, Giles continued as though his slayer hadn't interrupted. "Well, no," he countered as Willow slumped back to the couch in defeat, "but what I was going to say was that if anything, the vampiric activity in Sunnydale has actually been on a noticeable decline since Graduation Day."

"Really?" Buffy drawled, rolling her eyes at her Watcher as she shifted on his couch. "I hadn't noticed," she dead-panned as Willow elbowed her sharply in reply.

"Yeah, Dead Boy hasn't even made a reappearance," Xander quipped, instantly wishing he hadn't as Buffy flinched as though she had been struck.

Sighing, Giles slowly turned away from his books to gaze at his ward with undisguised pity. Ever since Angel had changed, he had had no obvious love for the vampire. But that didn't mean that he didn't see the love that his Slayer still held for him - a love that would never work for either. "Then, you haven't heard from him?" he asked gently, watching as she seemed to withdraw into herself even further. And as a thick, uncomfortable silence fell upon the room, Giles had his answer. "Well then," he cut in, breaking the silence as he hazarded a glance to his shuttered window. "It's getting dark now. Why don't you patrol and see if you can find something to entertain you?" he suggested as he heard a flurry of movement behind him. Confused, he turned to watch as all three made a run for the door.

"Great idea, Giles, see you later!" Buffy cried as the trio disappeared into the waning afternoon sunlight.

Sighing at the blessed silence that once more reigned over his apartment, Giles turned once more back to his dusty book collection. "Thank heavens," he whispered as he became lost in his beloved domain.


	3. Chapter 3

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 3  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

With shuttered eyes, Jarod hid in the shadows of a softly swaying stand of trees and watched the couple before him. They were in one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries, standing before one of many fresh graves that could be found in the small town. The couple, obviously married, looked older than they should, premature aging showing in their slumped shoulders and grieved stance. Silently, the woman slowly bent and placed a beautiful bouquet of yellow daises on the soft dirt, her hand unconsciously going to her lips to stifle a pained sob.

Wincing with understanding, Jarod remained hidden, his dark brown eyes taking in their every movement. He couldn't help but feel their pain - to place himself in their position, as he was taught to do so long ago, and feel the agony that they must be feeling. The heart-wrenching pain, so familiar, brought hot, stinging tears to his own eyes as he watched the man help his wife to her feet, supporting her frail form and leading her from the cemetery.

Unconsciously, Jarod couldn't help but wonder if his own parents had felt such profound grief when he was stolen from them as a young boy. Instantly though, that thought was replaced by a pained remembrance of his brief meeting with his father - a joyous reunion that had ended in a separation that was accentuated by his return to the Centre - this time as Lyle's torture victim.

Shaking his troubled thoughts away, Jarod waited until the couple was out of sight and then slowly abandoned his hiding place and moved to stand before the gleaming granite stone.

**Harmony Kendall  
1981 - 1999  
We Will Never Forget Nor Forgive**

Sighing, Jarod slowly withdrew his familiar red notebook and flipped past the articles on the high school bombing until he came to a small article that featured a grainy photo of a beautiful teenaged girl. Looking beneath the picture, Jarod strained in the growing darkness to read the small caption:

**Parents left to wonder why: After the brutal slaying of their only child during her graduation commencement, parents of Harmony Kendall cannot even mourn in peace as her remains were stolen from her grave the following evening.**

Shaking his head, Jarod slowly drew his eyes away from the grainy black and white photo to stare at the dull granite, now silverish in the bright moonlight... moonlight. Startled, Jarod followed the trail of light with his eyes until he was staring up into the dark, California sky. He had missed sunset and hadn't even realized it.

With the bright, full moon glowing in the sky above, lighting his way, Jarod finally turned away from the girl's grave. "I'll make things right," he murmured, repeating the vow that he always made when stumbling upon strange cases like this - cases that gave him an opportunity to fix things that were wrong with the world. A chance to make amends for naively making things so much worse for so many others while growing up in the Centre.

Pushing his troubled memories aside, Jarod walked across the smoothly cut lawn, his footsteps muffled in the oppressive night heat - a heat that didn't seem to be diminishing even with the lack of a bright sun. And then, his thoughts were scrambled once more as two shadows suddenly parted before him, taking shape into two figures, one slight while the other was tall and lumbering. Surprised, Jarod stopped and squinted in the darkness, trying to make out the forms. The detective's earlier warning came back to him: _We may be a small town, but we have a history with... gangs on PCP._ "Can I help you?" Jarod asked the strangers, pushing aside his uneasiness as he offered a bright smile, doubting that they could see it in the shadowed darkness.

"Are you lost?" came a quick reply as the smaller of the two strangers came forward, the moonlight shining softly on her blonde locks as she grinned at him, the picture of innocence.

But Jarod could only stare at the girl in wonder. He supposed that it was part of his being a genius that he had a photographic memory, but regardless, it didn't take long at all for him to recognize the girl from the photo that he had been looking at earlier. The photo of the dead girl that he was there to avenge. "Harmony Kendall?" he asked, his tone conveying his confusion.

And that was when the girl's face changed into something hideous, with glowing eyes, a protruding brow ridge, and pointed fangs. "Not anymore."

* * *

As the dark moonlight glinted off of the towering trees, Buffy and company slowly moved beneath their lowest branches, eyes trained on the creeping shadows that surrounded them. With a stealth and predator's gaze that were built upon years of training and experience, Buffy crept as quietly as the night itself, her ears trained to the silent darkness, awaiting an adversary.

Meanwhile, Willow and Xander traipsed behind her, noisily sucking cherry slurpees through long, red straws. "You know," Xander began around a mouthful of the icy liquid, "whoever invented slurpees must have been a genius - like Einstein or something."

"Yep, those geniuses at the 7-11," Willow agreed as she lifted her straw from the hole in the top of the plastic, licking off the chilly juices before noisily lowering her straw to once more continue slurping down the drink.

Sighing, Buffy flicked an annoyed glance at her friends as she lifted her finger to her lips. "Geez, you guys, loud much?" she hissed, rolling her eyes as she adjusted her tank top, feeling slightly chilled in the dark night air despite the oppressive heat.

"Why bother?" Xander quickly bit back as he once more took a long drag off of his slurpee, making sure to make it as noisy as possible. "Giles is right - we haven't seen a vampire in-" he cut off as a muffled cry broke the stillness of the night.

Without wasting a second, Buffy broke into action as she quickly darted through the underbrush and vaulted over towering granite tombs, making her way across the graveyard in seconds. Then, as she broke through additional vegetation and into a clearing, Buffy stumbled to a halt, her eyes quickly taking in the situation. There were two vampires, no problem for her Slayer prowess, but there was the added difficulty of the guy that was trapped between the two, busy getting his life sucked from his veins.

Grimacing in disgust, Buffy quickly darted forward and whipped her stake from the small duffel she carried, dropping the bag to the ground beside her. "Hey, room for one more?" she quipped, gaining the vamps' attention as they turned away from their dinner - which was when Buffy recognized the petite vampire that had the grace to look frightened at her appearance. "Harmony?" Buffy asked, her shock giving the vampires the slightest advantage they were looking for as the other launched himself at her.

But whatever advantage gained by her distraction was quickly lost as Buffy ducked his clumsy swing and retaliated with a sharp kick to his chest, sending the large vampire flying back and to the ground. Smiling grimly, she shifted her attention to Harmony, the barely conscious stranger still held in her grip. "Listen, I'm sorry about the whole undead thing," Buffy began as she slowly began to move in on her old high school acquaintance, "but since you're not really Harmony, I guess you can't take this too personally," she finished as she raised her stake.

"You always were a bitch," was Harmony's snooty reply as she tightened her hold on her half-conscious meal. Licking her lips, she quickly bared her fangs and hissed at her enemy, her eyes glowing a pale yellow in the bright moonlight. "And you come any closer I'll break his neck," she whispered, smiling as she tightened her hold on the guy's neck.

Pausing for the first time, Buffy finally took a good look at the stranger that Harmony held captive. He was older, probably in his thirties - not as old as her Mom or Giles, but definitely older than her and her friends. But then again, he was kind of cute, in that older sort of way, with brown eyes that watched her with a detached kind of worry, eyes that shone with fear and sadness.

"Run," the man whispered, surprising them both as he weakly pushed at Harmony, trying in vain to dislodge her death lock on him. "Get out of here," he continued, beginning to turn panicked as his large brown eyes bored into Buffy's green.

It was the eyes, she decided, that spoke to her most. There was something in those eyes that hit her on some lower level, something that spoke of a pain and sorrow that she could relate to - a deep sadness, almost. A sadness that did nothing to hide the fact that he was dying from blood loss. Shaking away her thoughts, Buffy smiled sweetly at Harmony as both Xander and Willow came crashing through the shrubbery behind her. "Listen Harmony, we'll make a deal. You run real fast, right now, and maybe you'll live through the night."

For the briefest of moments Harmony considered Buffy's offer before she quickly shoved her captive in the Slayer's direction and then proceeded to bolt from the clearing. For a second, Buffy considered following - up until the guy stumbled and then fell to his knees on the hard ground.

"Uh oh," Buffy muttered as she dropped to her knees beside him, just as he fell the rest of the way to the ground, his head landing in her lap. "Uh oh," she repeated as she quickly and firmly held her hand against the oozing neck wound.

"Ooh, he's looking kind of pale," Willow murmured as she took in the man's dusky appearance.

"That's cause Harmony was using him as her own version of a Slurpee!" Xander hissed as Willow elbowed his side.

"Hey, you're gonna be alright," Buffy quickly assured the guy, ignoring her friends' passing conversation. Smiling encouragingly, or so she hoped, she gently smoothed away his matted brown hair with one hand. "You're going to be fine."

"Who... who are you?" the guy asked, his voice faint as he squinted up at her in the darkness.

"My name is Buffy," she quickly replied, her smile faltering as his eyes began to blink shut.

"Jarod," the man whispered, so quietly that she had to lean close to hear. "I'm Jarod," he repeated as he finally succumbed to the darkness that had been beckoning to him since the monster had begun to feed.

Startled, Buffy pulled away and looked down at the man's face. "Not again," she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments before her green eyes quickly snapped to her friends. "Xander, get help!" she ordered, straightening as her eyes bored into the lanky teen.

"Got it," Xander shot back, his humor forgotten as his mind registered the weariness on his friend's face. A weariness that had begun to appear more and more often since graduation... since Angel had left. Shaking his thoughts away, Xander hurried to his feet and was off like a shot as Buffy continued to hold her hand against the wound, trying to staunch the blood flow.

"Is he going to be okay?" Willow asked, her voice timid as she looked to her friend for reassurance.

"I don't know," Buffy murmured, worrying her lip as she glanced down into the man's face. He looked so peaceful then, his eyes closed and the lines on his face smoothed away. "See if you can find some ID on him or something," she offered, trying to give her friend something to do to occupy her thoughts.

Nodding, Willow tentatively reached forward and felt along the man's pockets, quickly coming up empty. Then, as she traced her hands along the outer pocket of his shirt, which was quickly becoming stained with his blood, she let out a triumphant cry as her hand emerged with a small black device. "Oh, cell phone," she murmured, her voice falling once more as she flipped open the small device. "I guess that we didn't need to send Xander for help after all," she continued as she examined the phone. "So no ID, but he does have some numbers programmed in," she murmured as she randomly selected one number from the rest, putting it to her ear as it began to ring.


	4. Chapter 4

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 4  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

"Sydney, I swear that when I find your lab rat, I am going to bury him so deep in the Centre that he will never again even dream of seeing the light of day," the woman ranted as she slowly paced the spacious confines of her office, her tiny skirt crawling up either thigh to afford both men more than an eyeful of her long, shapely legs.

"I take it that Jarod wasn't in Memphis?" the younger man asked, nervously reaching up to run a hand over his balding head.

"Gee Broots, was it so obvious?" the woman hissed, her eyes flashing daggers as she impatiently reached for a small silver case, snapping it open and quickly lifting a slim cigarette to her painted lips. "I am so sick of him running us all over the country on his little pranks," she trailed off as the older man calmly reached out and offered her a light.

"Miss Parker," he began as he smiled at the woman, quietly reveling in her anger, "I can assure you that Jarod-"

"Can it, Sydney," she quickly cut in, her tone biting as she took a long drag on the cigarette, "I'm in no mood for your excuses for your lab rat," she hissed, her smile turning dangerous as the phone rang on the desk beside her. Turning, she glared at the device for the briefest of moments before reaching over and jabbing her finger down on the phone's console. "What?" she barked, her attention divided between glaring at the two men standing before her.

"Ah... hello?" a young girl's voice echoed out of the small device, seeming extremely out of place in the luscious and sophisticated office.

Eyes narrowing, Miss Parker threw a questioning glance to her comrades as she slowly crossed to stand behind her desk, leaning forward so that her weight was supported by her arms, spread out firmly before her. "Who is this?" she asked slowly, her tone low and dangerous.

"Um, Willow?" the girl's voice replied, sounding so unsure and hesitant that it was almost comical.

Eyes narrowing even further, Miss Parker leaned even closer to the phone's microphone. "How did you get this number, _Willow_?" she hissed, stressing the girl's uncommon name.

Obviously flustered, the girl's voice paused before quickly stammering, "I'm sorry, but Jarod had it-"

At this, Miss Parker's eyes quickly snapped to Sydney, her eyebrows rising so high that they were almost hidden amongst her perfectly styled hair. "Jarod? You know Jarod?" she asked quickly, her tone changing 180 degrees so that it was almost sickeningly sweet.

"... Not really... listen, are you a friend of his?"

Smiling evilly, Miss Parker looked like a cat about to close in on her prey. "Closer. Where is Jarod?"

"Well, you see... he was kind of attacked-"

"Attacked?" Miss Parker muttered, her throat tightening as she saw Sydney pale visibly. Deep down she didn't know whether the worry that filtered through her veins was because of the fear of failure or a deep fear for her nemesis. "By whom?" she questioned, her voice sounding unnaturally high to her ears.

"... Uh, mosquitoes?"

"Mosquitoes?" Broots whispered, summing up everyone's confusion as he exchanged looks with the others.

Shrugging, Miss Parker turned her attention back to the phone.

"Anyway, he's lost a lot of blood. We're getting an ambulance now."

Shoving aside the puzzling mosquito bit for another time, Miss Parker quickly reached for a pad of paper and a pen. "Where are you?" she asked, pen poised over the paper.

"In the graveyard-"

Feeling another chill sweep over her, Miss Parker quickly shook her head, her perfectly coifed hair swirling around her shoulders. "No, _where are you_? What city? What state?" she asked, her impatience coloring her voice.

"Sunnydale... Sunnydale, California."

Smiling the smile of a predator once more, this one colored with a worry that she refused to acknowledge, Miss Parker quickly slid the paper to Broots. "We'll be there in two hours," she quickly stated before terminating the connection.

"Mosquitoes?" Broots repeated, his expression both curious and confused.

Ignoring the computer technician, Miss Parker quickly walked around her desk and picked up the handset of her telephone. "Broots, have them get the jet ready. We have a flight to catch," she ordered as she lifted the handset to her ear.

"To where?" a new voice asked from her open doorway.

Biting back a groan, Miss Parker slowly replaced the handset and turned to glare at her brother, dressed immaculately, as always, in a finely pressed dark suit. Instantly the possibilities, the lies, raced through her mind as she scoured her brain for a possible answer to get rid of him - finding none. It was of no use. He would be suspicious and would just play back her strange conversation, her phone no doubt bugged and every call recorded. Sighing, she knew she had no viable option but the truth. "We... we have a lead on Jarod," she murmured, hating the position that she was in. Then again, she didn't really have a choice. With her father in hiding and Mr. Raines on a religious stint, that left her brother in charge. He, in charge. She, not so much. Wincing, she limply lifted a hand to her forehead as she waited for the inevitable.

"Wonderful, then what are we waiting for?" Lyle asked as he smiled broadly at his sister.

Sighing, Miss Parker accepted her fate. "Nothing. Let's go," she muttered as she brushed past the men that made up her life - what a sad life it was.


	5. Chapter 5

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 5  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

Sunnydale Memorial Hospital

As the automatic doors swung open before him, Giles' nose was instantly assaulted by a wave of antiseptic smell, clogging his nostrils and reminding him once more that he was in the hated place of death and occasional healing. Cringing slightly, he took one last lungful of clean night air before hurrying forward and into the bustling ER.

He had been there too many times before in his relatively brief time as a Watcher. Too many times for his taste, and definitely too many times as a patient himself. But even worse than being an actual patient in the hospital was the horrid dread that twisted his innards now, the dread based on the fear that someone he cared about was hurt in some unknown way. Possibly dying. Possibly dead. The possibilities were unending and that was what frightened Giles more than anything. The possibilities of what could have gone wrong on that ordinary night and what he could have already lost.

"Giles!"

Hearing Buffy's voice, Giles felt a wave of relief sweep over him as he hurried towards his Slayer. Grabbing her arms, he couldn't help but sweep his eyes over her, assuring himself that from the top of her blonde head to the bottom of her small feet his ward was not hurt. But seeing that she wasn't only caused his worry to shift to the other two teenagers that had gone out with her that night.

"Giles?" Buffy asked, her voice filled with confusion as she took in her Watcher's obvious panic.

"Xander, Willow - are they alright? Where are they? No one said, just to get to the hospital quickly," he said quickly, straining to keep his voice from shaking.

"Xander and Willow are fine," Buffy quickly assured, gently but firmly pushing Giles' hands to his sides as her two companions joined them. "But we have another problem," she added, her voice hitching as her eyes drifted to the cracked linoleum floor.

"Problem?" Giles asked, not understanding as his eyes quickly darted back and forth between the two other glum looking teenagers. If everyone was alright, he couldn't understand what he could possibly be doing at the hospital, that late at night. What they were _all_ doing there.

"I didn't get there in time," Buffy continued, her tan face paling slightly as she slowly lifted her eyes to meet those of her Watcher.

"Hey, he's alive, ain't he?" Xander cut in as he slung a casual arm over Buffy's shoulders, grinning weakly as Giles slowly and patiently removed his glasses to begin polishing them.

"Buffy, what happened?" he finally asked, his eyes gently holding the girl's as he returned his glasses to their proper place. "What is going on?"

Sighing dejectedly in response, Buffy turned and led the older man into a nearby room, empty save one bed. Confused, Giles pushed past the teens and moved until he was standing beside the bed's metal railing. Covered by a starch white sheet lay a man, probably ten years his junior, with spiked brown hair and a pallor that was almost sickly pale. Nodding in understanding, Giles' eyes focused on the large bandage that was swathed around the stranger's neck. "Vampire?" he asked, turning back to the others.

"I didn't get there in time," was Buffy's solemn reply as she stared at the man, her eyes filled with self-loathing.

Surprised, Giles slowly shook his head. While it was a disturbing fact, this wasn't the first time that his Slayer had arrived too late to help someone. And in this case, she obviously hadn't arrived _too_ late. After all, as Xander so crudely pointed out, the man was still breathing thanks to his Slayer. What he didn't understand was her profound sense of failure for not having arrived before the man had to be sent to the hospital. "Buffy, I don't-" he began, about to point out his confusion when a doctor entered the room behind them, clipboard in hand.

"Doctor, how is he?" Willow quickly asked, nervously wringing her small hands as she shuffled aside so that the man could get to his patient.

"Better," the man responded, his demeanor suggesting that it wasn't the first time that he had fielded the teens' questions. "He seems to be taking well to the transfusions," he continued as he adjusted a monitor. "He has a rare blood type, so it was a little tricky at first, but I'm sure that with a little bed rest he'll be fine in no time," he finished, smiling reassuredly at the teens.

"Well that's splendid," Giles quickly responded, sending Buffy a meaningful look as he began ushering Willow and Xander towards the door.

"Do you mind if we stay with him until his friends arrive?" Buffy asked of the doctor, surprising them all as she moved to the man's bedside, gently taking his large hand in her own small one. _She_ didn't even understand her unwillingness to leave the guy's side. There was just something in his eyes back in the clearing - something that was so vulnerable and innocent - so frightened at being alone, of dying alone. It was a feeling and a fear that she understood well. With a destiny that all but guaranteed a young death, a painful death, Buffy was sensitive to the idea that when her time came she would have to face it alone. It was that idea that scared her more than the thought of dying itself. After all, she had already done that once before.

"I don't see why not," the doctor replied, smiling gently at the slim girl before slipping once more from the room.

"Hey, you okay?" Willow asked, moving beside her friend and placing a hand gently on her shoulder.

But any response Buffy was about to give was forgotten as the man slowly began to stir in the small bed.

* * *

Groaning, Jarod slowly found his way out of the sea of darkness that enveloped him, struggling weakly up and up until his blinking eyes took in the harsh glare of fluorescent lights and the putrid green walls that surrounded him. Wincing, he tried to lift his hand to his aching head, only to find that it was enclosed in a small circle of warmth. Surprised, he slowly turned his pounding head until his eyes took in the sight of what seemed to be an angel to his weary eyes. "Who.. who are you?" he asked, licking his parched lips as he took in the short blonde, her green eyes conveying so much wisdom and pain for someone so young.

"You don't remember?" Buffy asked as she felt her friends gather around her. "We met earlier," she continued as she smiled warmly at the man. Once more she was reminded of how cute he was as his brown eyes crinkled in concentration. "I'm Buffy, and this is Willow, Xander, and Giles," she added, waving absently at the people gathered behind her.

"Buffy?" he repeated back, testing the unfamiliar name on his lips. Struggling silently, he searched his memory for a reference to this girl or her friends, quickly coming up short. Sighing, he dropped the issue for now as he turned to take in the small hospital room and the other people that filled its small space. "What happened? Why am I in a hospital?" he asked as he once more struggled to lift his hand, this one containing an IV drip, to his aching neck, finding a large bandage swathing the skin.

"You were attacked," Giles quickly explained, moving beside Buffy to place a strong, reassuring hand on her shoulder. "By a gang on PCP," he continued, falling back on the time-old cover story, sharing looks with the others.

"PCP?" Jarod asked, fragments and flashes of memory returning to him. He remembered now. He was in Sunnydale, investigating the graduation day explosion and trying to help the parents of Harmony Kendall... and then he was jumped in the graveyard by people with disfigured faces and... fangs? "I've never seen PCP do that to a person before," he quickly countered, suspiciously meeting the man's flustered gaze. And then, as all eyes turned to the blonde, Jarod finally remembered meeting her. She had saved him, moving faster than his eyes could follow. "Wait, I remember you... how did you do that?" he asked, his brown eyes boring into her green.

"Uh..." Buffy stammered, pulling her eyes away from Jarod's. His brown eyes were so piercing, obvious intelligence hidden there. She felt as though he would easily see through any lie that she fed him.

"Steroids," Willow quickly threw in, flushing as all eyes swiveled to her.

Biting back a groan, Buffy forced a smile and met Jarod's confused gaze. "Yeah, steroids," she confirmed reluctantly. "But don't tell the doctor or anything," she continued, waving her arm dramatically at the open door behind her. "My, uh, coach would get in trouble for it," she added as she waved at Giles, including him in her flustered lie.

"Yes, well," Giles stammered, glaring at his Slayer, "uh, go team," he finished weakly, lamely pumping his fist in the air.

Even more confused, Jarod watched as Xander, the tall and lanky guy with thick black hair, quickly hid a snicker behind his hand as the short redhead elbowed him sharply. "Well, I'm a doctor," he lied smoothly, "and I've never seen steroids do that to anyone before, either," he continued, watching as they all shared guilty looks.

"Yeah, well a lot of things happen in Sunnydale that don't happen elsewhere," Xander countered, as he nodded towards the door, none too subtly indicating that it was time to leave before they dug themselves even deeper.

Nodding in understanding, the girls allowed Giles and Xander to herd them towards the open doorway and the hallway beyond. "Don't worry, Jarod," Willow added over her shoulder, "we were able to reach your friends and they should be here soon."

Instantly Jarod shot forward, ignoring his weakened body's protestations. "My friends?" he asked, his brown eyes widening and filling with panic.

Surprised, Buffy paused in the doorway and then slowly moved back within, shrugging off Giles' hand. "Yeah, we found your lady friend's number programmed into your cell phone. When she found out where you were she said they'd come right away."

Feeling his eyes slip shut, Jarod slowly shook his head, panic all but consuming him. "Miss Parker," he whispered, her cold eyes flashing in his mind's eyes. "The Centre," he continued as he quickly began pulling at the wires and nodes that were attached to his body, blind to everything but his need to get away from the hospital as soon as possible. Cursing himself and their kindness, Jarod kicked himself over and over again for having programmed their numbers into his phone. By doing so, he had just signed his return to the Centre. Shuddering, images of the Centre flashed through his mind's eye: his heart being stopped by a drug injection, over and over again, hanging by chains as Lyle mercilessly tortured him, sending current after powerful electrical current through his battered body. He couldn't go back there. He'd never go back there.

"Hey, take it easy," Buffy quickly intoned as she threw a confused glance at the others. "You're still weak from blood loss," she continued as he draped his legs over the edge of the bed, pushing himself to stand only to have them buckle beneath him.

Grunting, Buffy quickly moved forward and supported the bigger man, easily helping him back into his bed. "No, uh uh," she stated firmly, pushing him forcefully down as Giles moved over to help. "I already said that you're not going anywhere."

"Yes, you've lost a lot of blood," Giles added, confused at the man's obvious panic. "You're in no condition-"

"I have to get out of here before they get here," Jarod quickly interrupted, trying to shove the girl's hand aside, pushing aside the puzzling fact that he couldn't. _I must be weaker than I thought._

"Before _who_ gets here?" Willow asked, making sure to stay back and out of the way. "Your friends?"

"They're not my friends," Jarod broke in, his voice filled with venomous bitterness. "And I need to get out of here before they get here," he repeated, his eyes shifting until they locked on the blonde's green eyes. Unconsciously, he knew that despite her young age, it was with this girl that help would come and that the decision would be made. "Please, let me go."

For the briefest of moments, indecision clouded Buffy's mind. But then, as she locked eyes with him once more and saw the fear and desperation there - the pleading, Buffy had her answer. "You're not going anywhere... alone," she added, throwing Giles a glance that brooked no arguments.

Sighing, Giles hesitated for a moment before nodding his agreement. "Willow, search that cabinet over there for his clothing," he said as he leaned forward and began helping Buffy to remove the many nodes and wires that were still attached to the man's body.

Nodding, Willow quickly did as told, tossing the soiled garments to Xander as she and Buffy turned, allowing he and Giles to help the weakened man out of the thin hospital gown. Minutes later, Buffy was once more called back to the bed as Jarod once more tried to stand, this time clothed in his bloodied white shirt and black dress slacks.

"Here, lean on me," Buffy ordered, helping him to drape one arm over her shoulder as Xander moved under the other.

Surprised, Jarod threw the girl the briefest of glances before she and Xander pulled him to his feet, effectively supporting his weight between the two of them as they hurried to the door. Pausing briefly, they waited for the redhead's nod before they swept into the hallway.

With Willow and Giles guiding their way, the group moved quietly through the bustling hallways, daring not draw any undue attention to themselves as they hurried towards the hospital entrance. "My car is right outside," Giles muttered as the group left the hospital and started towards the darkened parking lot. Soon, shadows encompassed them as they finally reached the side of an ancient, rusting little car... only to come to a halting stop as a soft click echoed in the quiet night. Turning, the small group came face to face with four men and a woman.

"Jarod," the woman said, her voice cold. As a tight smile lifted her lips, she tightened her hold on her small pistol, her aim steady on the group.


	6. Chapter 6

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 6  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

"Whoa, hold up," Xander quickly protested as he pulled up short, Giles and Willow freezing before them, all throwing shielded glances to Buffy as if looking for a cue.

"Miss Parker," Jarod responded, warily taking in her smug expression before turning to see Broots, Sydney, Lyle, and Sam flanking her on either side. Soon, both Lyle and Sam had their guns drawn and focused on him and the others as well. They were too late.

"Jarod, are you alright?" Sydney asked, concern tightening his features as he took in the man's pale pallor and the dried blood that stained his white shirt.

"He's alive, and that's all that matters to me and the Triumvirate," Miss Parker interrupted, her smile growing as she idly glanced at the others that were with him: an older man who looked more bookish than trouble, a young man, tall and lanky and helping to support Jarod, a thin redhead that looked so frightened that she might faint, and a petite blonde, also helping to support Jarod, that looked so tiny that a small breeze might blow her away. All in all, as long as the boy didn't try anything stupid, none would be a threat. "Jarod, it's time to come home," Miss Parker continued, gaze turning full circle until they met his tired brown eyes.

Sighing, Jarod briefly closed his eyes as his weariness multiplied with those familiar words. How many times since his escape in the past four years had Miss Parker said those very same words to him? And yet as her statement never changed, neither did his response. "I'm never going back," he gritted out wearily, lifting his tired eyes to meet hers.

Feeling her smile tighten, Miss Parker's gaze locked with Jarod's. "We shall see about that," she murmured as the short blond shifted beside him.

"These your 'friends'?" Buffy asked as she finished assessing the threat that the five people posed. The guns would be an issue, especially since all three seemed trained in the weapons and ready and able to use them. On the other hand, the older man and the nerdy guy, Gramps and Baldy as she quickly dubbed them, both seemed content to stand by and watch what would transpire. In other words, the threat came only from the other three. And just by glancing into the woman's cold eyes, Buffy knew where the weakness was.

"Yes," Miss Parker spoke up before Jarod could. "And it's time for him to come home," she continued as her eyes drifted to the petite blonde. "Sydney, Broots," she commanded, nodding her head towards the other group. "Get Jarod."

"Giles," Buffy countered at the same time, her Watcher reading her mind as he slowly stepped back and took Buffy's place beside the stranger, helping Xander to keep him from falling to the ground and thus freeing up his Slayer to do what was needed.

Moving quickly, Buffy shifted to stand between the two groups as Willow melted back with the others. As Gramps and Baldy stepped towards her, she stopped them cold with one steely look. "Sorry, but Jarod doesn't seem interested in joining your... little group," she finished as she eyed the woman's skin tight mini-skirt with skeptical eyes. "Try another street corner," she finished with a small smirk as the two men stopped in their tracks, trying to hide their snickers as the brunette's eyes grew wide and then narrowed.

"Well," she murmured, her smile turning pencil thin as she reevaluated the short blonde. Spunky - but still, no threat. "Jarod, what have you found this time? A girl to fight your battles?" she asked as she stepped forward until the muzzle of her gun was inches from the girl's red tank top. "So, what devastating wrong is Jarod trying to fix for you this time? Did someone get you pregnant and then throw you out on the streets? Is that your pimp?" she continued icily, nodding at the older man that looked preposterously scandalized by her taunts.

"Parker," Sydney called out, his voice showing his dismay as his eyes shifted from the brunette to the small blonde.

"Miss Parker, leave them out of this," Jarod added, trying to intervene, only to have the older man and the wiry teen easily pull him back.

"Oh no, I think that we're definitely involved in this now," Buffy murmured, trying not to laugh at the woman's weak come-back. "And if that's the best insult that you can hurl, you better hope that your aim is better. The dead have given better come backs than that," she laughed, her expression unchanging as the woman's icy stare bore into her own light green eyes.

"Oh, don't you worry about that, _little_ girl," Parker hissed, "my aim is-" she broke off as the girl's arm launched forward so fast that her body became a blur of movement.

Moving on instinct, Buffy quickly reached forward and twisted the woman's wrist to the side, loosing her grip on the gun and wrenching it from her hand. As the woman stumbled back in surprise, gripping her wrist in pain, Buffy cocked the gun and aimed it at her chest. "Normally, I don't enjoy playing with guns," she began, arching an eyebrow at the pale woman, "but you didn't leave me a whole lot of options," she continued as she lifted her eyes to the woman's companions. "Now, if you guys would be so kind as to hand your weapons over to my friend here," she added, nodding back towards Willow who dutifully stepped forward, her face pale, "before the She-Bitch gets hurt," she finished, smiling innocently at the two goons dressed in impeccable dark suits.

"Well," Lyle muttered, his smile faltering as the small redhead meekly stepped forward and took his gun from his hands, "this is certainly an interesting twist, isn't it Parker?" he asked, a malicious twinkle darkening his eyes as Miss Parker scowled at him. "And who exactly are you?" he continued, turning empty-handed to face the petite blonde. Pretty, perky, and fast - an interesting combination.

"No one that you need be concerned with," came Buffy's quick retort as she briefly shifted her glare to include the oddly-smiling man, a.k.a. Wonder Boy.

As Willow hurried back to her friends' sides, Xander and Giles finished the distance to the car and gently lowered Jarod's tall frame into the cramped backseat. Once settled, the teen quickly followed the pretender, squeezing into the small backseat, allowing just enough room for Willow to follow him in, settling onto Xander's lap. Once settled, Giles followed the others and quickly slipped behind the wheel, the car backfiring into life as it backed away and then pulled beside the Slayer, the others powerless to stop it as Giles pushed the passenger side door open from within.

Smiling, Buffy moved lithely back until she was standing beside the open door. "Next time," she added as she made a great show of raising the gun that she held and slowly crushing it in her small hand, "make sure to stay out of my town." As her opponents eyes widened, Buffy nodded in satisfaction. Her point had been made. Smiling, she slowly turned towards the door, only to freeze as she sensed movement from behind her. Turning quickly, Buffy dove and rolled to the side, just in time to avoid the larger man's fumbled grasp. Grinning, she finished the roll to her feet and launched a lightning quick side kick that sent him to the ground like a massive bag of flour. Not even out of breath, she ducked as she felt another attack graze by her ear. Dropping to the ground, she quickly swung her leg out, catching her attacker behind the knees and sending him to the ground. Smiling, she stood slowly to admire the damage.

Since her attackers were obviously human, death wasn't an option. Then again, her training left her with many ways to disarm and immobilize any human attacker - such as the present case. Her defense and attack had been so quick that both men - the large and lumbering body guard, the Gorilla, and the smaller, more trim and immaculately dressed man, Wonder Boy - were both on the ground, the first unconscious while the other was groaning and nursing his wounds. Straightening, Buffy redirected her gaze to the woman and two other men, all frozen and in apparent shock.

"How did you-" Parker broke off, her mind busily trying to process what she had just witnessed - unable to comprehend the speed and apparent ease that the girl had dispatched Sam and her brother.

"Now get out of my town before I _really_ get angry," the girl interrupted, her tone even as she casually walked towards the idling car and settled in the vacant passenger seat.

Shaking her head, Parker did nothing, could do nothing, as the car sputtered into life and jerked away, the red twinkling of its tail light slowly disappearing out of the parking lot and into the empty residential street beyond. "What in the hell just happened?" she muttered, slowly massaging her aching wrist.

"I am not sure," Sydney replied, idly watching as Broots comically tried to revive the unconscious sweeper, "but whatever it may be, you can guarantee that we will not be finding Jarod again this night."

In reply, Parker could only flex her aching hand once more. "Jarod," she whispered, her tone venomous as she finally turned away, angrily stalking towards their parked car.

Meanwhile, Lyle slowly climbed to his feet, his eyes locked on the street where Jarod and his mysterious friends had disappeared to. Nodding slowly, a thoughtful expression clouding his features, he pulled out his cell phone and moved away from the others. "Willie?" he murmured into the tiny device. "I've got some plates I want you to run."


	7. Chapter 7

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 7  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

Sighing, Jarod slowly leaned back against the faded upholstery and turned his weary eyes away from the rapidly fading hospital behind them. "They won't rest until they're sure that I'm gone," he muttered, weakly running a hand through his spiked hair. "But you'll be safe then."

"Well, then it's time to get you out of Dodge," Buffy replied evenly, swiveling in her seat to take in his haggard appearance, trying not to snicker at seeing him squished so tightly next to Xander in the small backseat, Willow trying her best to be comfortable atop her friend's lap.

"Dodge?" Jarod muttered, obviously confused as he slowly shook his head. "But this is Sunnydale-"

"Cultural pop reference," Giles interrupted with a knowing smile, hazarding a glance at the younger man through his rearview mirror. "She means that we need to get you out of Sunnydale - immediately."

"But I can't leave yet," the Pretender quickly protested, energy once more returning as he struggled to sit forward. "I haven't done yet what I came here to do."

"Which is?" Xander prompted, grunting as Giles hit a bump, causing Willow to shift into a painful place. "Easy there, Will," he muttered, trying to shift her away from delicate places as her face flushed red.

Ignoring the teens' banter, Jarod locked eyes with Buffy. "To help Harmony Kendall's parents understand what happened to their daughter and find out who blew up Sunnydale High School a few weeks ago," he stated, his eyes boring into her own.

"Well that's easy," Buffy replied, ignoring her Watcher's startled glance. "Having Harmony's parents believe that she's dead is better than telling them that her daughter has become a soulless, blood sucking demon, and," she added, her eyes twinkling a bit, "I blew up the school," she finished, her smile innocent.

Speechless, Jarod could only stare in silence at the small girl that sat in front of him.

"Yeah, and can you believe that this is the _second_ school that she's toasted like that?" Xander quipped, only to receive a nasty glare from the petite blonde.

"But.. how is that-" Jarod stammered, slowly turning from one calm face to the other.

"Don't worry about it," Willow added innocently from beside him. "It's not like she did it for fun or anything. We had to in order to keep the Mayor-snake-thing from becoming a true demon and destroying the world." As a thick silence once more fell over the car, Willow balked beneath the Watcher's heated glare.

"In any case," Giles continued, his voice gruff as he pointedly met the eyes of each teen as best as possible while trying to keep one eye on the road, "we should focus once more on the issue at hand. Namely, getting Mister..." he trailed off as his eyes slid up to meet Jarod's even gaze in the rearview mirror.

"Just Jarod," the man quickly supplied, smiling benignly at the watcher's gaze.

"Well, yes then," Giles fumbled, obviously a bit put off by the lack of a proper name. "Jarod, here, out of town as quickly as humanly possible," he finished, hazarding a glance at his slayer beside him, a thick silence once more falling over the vehicle.

"I have a car," Jarod spoke up quietly as all eyes turned once more back to him. "Rented, that is. I imagine that it's still back at the cemetery-"

"But you can't drive in your condition," Willow quickly protested before sending her friends a questioning look. "Can he?"

"I'll be fine," Jarod assured, straining to make his voice steady. Honestly, just being away from Lyle's unnerving boyish grin was enough to make him feel strong enough to do _anything_ to make good on his escape. "I just need to get my things from my room."

"Where are you staying?" Buffy interrupted, her mind already mulling over different scenarios and possibilities.

"The Sunnydale Motel," he responded quickly, noting the snickers that comment received from the two sitting beside him.

"Good," Buffy cut in, her eyes silencing her friends. "We're right by there. Giles can drop Jarod and I off at the motel and while he's getting cleaned up, you three can retrieve his car and meet us back there."

Nodding in agreement, it only took a minute more before Jarod was directing Giles across the parking lot and to his room. As the car pulled to a grinding halt, the petite blonde bounded energetically from the car before leaning back in to help the pretender from the small confines. "Hurry back with the car," she instructed one last time as her friends quickly pulled away, leaving her alone with the stranger.

Sighing, she watched the dwindling taillights for a moment longer before turning her full attention back to the man that leaned against her. "Let's get you inside and cleaned up," she murmured, noting the color that was finally beginning to return to Jarod's cheeks as he became more steady on his feet. "You're a quick healer," she commented as they stepped into the drab room, the flickering overhead lights illuminating a garish combination of orange, red and green fabric.

"I've experienced worse," came Jarod's mumbled reply as he scooped up a small duffel and headed towards the bathroom. "Give me a few minutes to get cleaned up."

Nodding idly, Buffy slowly swiveled as the door clicked shut behind him and took in the room. From all appearances, Jarod really hadn't had a chance to get settled in as the room looked virtually untouched. The only sign that it was inhabited was a large, silver briefcase that sat on a scarred wooden table, a putrid green chair pulled up alongside. Curious, Buffy settled in the creaking chair, grimacing at the various stains that covered the tattered material. "God, I don't even want to know," she muttered as her eyes turned once more to the case.

As her small hands reached for the clasp, a brief feeling of guilt swept over her as she stole a glance at the closed bathroom door. "Well, if it was private then he wouldn't have it sitting in the middle of the room," she reasoned to herself, no matter how illogical she knew it to be, as she popped the clasp and opened the case, only to reveal a strange machine built within. Perplexed, Buffy noted a random assortment of what looked to be miniature CDs off to one side with a small screen being the only prominent feature.

"Where's Will when you need her?" she muttered, idly selecting one CD amongst the others and slipping it into a small slot. Instantly the small screen came to life before her, showing a black and white image of a drab, institutional-looking room. Within sat a small boy, hooked to various nodes and wires and seated on a hard, metal chair. No, strapped to what looked to be an-

"Electric chair?" she breathed, eyes growing wide in horror. Disgusted, Buffy turned her gaze away from the hard lines of the chair and took in the small boy. He couldn't have been more than six or seven, with dark hair and large dark eyes... dark eyes that were so familiar. Surprised, Buffy couldn't help but feel that she knew the boy as she stared into those eyes - filled with so much loneliness - a feeling that she could relate to despite being surrounded by her friends. After all, no matter how much they aided her when she needed it most, in the end, it would always be her destiny to face whatever evil headed her way.

"Jarod, you must complete the simulation," a tinny voice echoed from the machine's speakers, drawing Buffy from her reverie as a slim man with thinning hair slowly stepped into view, pacing alongside the small boy. Startled, her eyes were drawn once more back to the small child, realizing at once that she was seeing a video of Jarod from when he was just a little boy.

"But Sydney, I don't want to," the child protested, tears glistening in his eyes. "I don't want to feel what he's feeling!"

"Jarod," the man quickly interrupted the child's quiet protests, "you must finish the simulation. A lot of people are depending on this," he urged, a brief flare of pity flashing across his handsome features before being replaced by one of cold detachment. "Now think. You are about to have your life ended by electrocution - the strong currents are about to course through your body. What are your last thoughts? Is he thinking about his victim? About the girl that he raped and killed?"

Aghast, Buffy could only watch as sniffling, the small boy forced back his tears as he visibly trembled under the heavy restraints. "I'm... I'm thinking about my family, and the fact that I'm never going to see them again," he whispered, his voice hollow and his eyes far away. "Even now I think about my family and what a mistake this is," he murmured, his features becoming firm. "Sydney, he didn't do it. He didn't rape that-"

So engrossed in the boy's tale, Buffy didn't notice Jarod's approach until his hand surged forward over her shoulder and snapped down the lid of the DSA unit. Startled, Buffy jumped from her seat and turned to face the man, a guilty blush staining her cheeks. "I..." she trailed off, a suitable excuse evading her as she noticed his change of clothing. With his black jeans, leather duster, and slightly mussed hair, he could almost pass for normal. "I was just-"

"It's none of your business," Jarod curtly cut in, his frown cutting a hard and unforgiving line across his handsome face.

Spurned more by shame and the realization that he was right than anything else, Buffy nonetheless felt her temper spike at his rebuke. "What _was_ that?" she demanded, watching as his face closed up even more. Sighing, Buffy slowly bit her lip as she tried another tactic. "Jarod," she whispered, tentatively stepping forward until she was staring up into his large brown eyes - the same brown eyes that held the same look as the child from years ago - her small hand resting on his arm. "What's going on? Your friends? The guns? Who are they and why do they want you so badly? The truth," she demanded, her green eyes boring into his own.

Sighing, Jarod felt himself begin to waver under her intense gaze. The Truth. In general, he made it a rule to keep the Truth of his past to himself and a few select others. In the past four years that he had been running from the Centre, despite the appeal of friendship and a temporary release of his great burden, he had learned that too much information, namely the Truth, could be dangerous to those he loved and trusted. The Centre made sure of that. But then again, as memories of earlier that evening flashed before his mind's eye: the girl's quick actions and inhuman strength, Jarod realized that of all the people that he had confided in, this small girl probably had the least to fear from Centre goons. That thought, strengthened by his natural curiosity, caused his frown to finally break into a tentative smile. "Not unless I get some answers from you as well - the truth this time," he added as he watched her consider his offer.

Kneading her lower lip, Buffy briefly anticipated Giles' reproach when he learned of this deal and then pushed it aside as her curiosity got the better of her once again. "Alright, it's a deal," she nodded, firmly taking his hand in her own and pumping it a few times. "But you get to start," she added as she settled her small frame into the ugly green chair, her earlier disgust forgotten as a lazy smile lifted her lips.

"Okay," Jarod murmured, his smile fading as he slowly pondered the bizarre tale that was his life. Inevitably, it always came to this: "I was taken from my family as a small child by a corporation called The Centre."

"Taken?" Buffy queried, afraid that she already knew his answer.

"Kidnapped," Jarod clarified, his voice becoming soft as his brown eyes met her green. "I was told that my family was dead and was raised in the Centre as one of their prized possessions - my natural ability as a pretender exploited to the highest bidder."

"Pretender?" Buffy asked, arching an eyebrow in disbelief. "As in playing dress-up and make-believe?" she continued, her natural affinity to lighten any situation coming through.

"Not quite," he responded, smiling ruefully. "There's something in my genes that has made me a genius with the ability to become anyone I want to be - from a doctor to an aerospace engineer," he explained, relating his past to her as he had done to others. "Given enough information, I can think like someone else and react and foretell how they would act."

Stunned, Buffy could only blink at Jarod. Instinctively she wanted to outright dismiss his tale as ludicrous. Then again, how would he react to her tale of vampires and demons? Deciding neutrality was the best venue for the present, Buffy slowly nodded her head. "A genius," she murmured, scrutinizing the man that stood before her, taking in his lean, athletic frame and kind features. "I would have pictured a genius to look more.. I don't know, brainy or something," she added, unable to keep the small smile from her lips. But at Jarod's frown, Buffy quickly dropped her attempts at levity and pushed ahead. "Well why did this Circle place go to all the trouble to kidnap you?"

"Centre," Jarod automatically corrected as his eyes seemed to focus on something just beyond Buffy's head. "And because they're evil," he answered simply, his eyes returning once more to hers.

"Hmm, evil," Buffy responded, nodding her head slightly as she aimlessly began picking at invisible specks of lint on her red tank. "I can relate with evil," she murmured as she took in Jarod's questioning glance. Shrugging her shoulders at his unasked question, Buffy quickly motioned for him to continue. "Not my turn yet."

Pushing aside her puzzling response for the moment, Jarod quickly returned to his earlier statement. "Well, not all of them are evil," he clarified, thinking of Sydney, Broots, and even Miss Parker and Sam. "Many of the people that work there are just caught up in their work, unable to get out and not understanding the full horrors of the Centre. You see, they used me to do a lot of different simulations, simulations that I was told were to help, but were really used to hurt and kill a lot of people," Jarod admitted, his eyes becoming unfocused as he thought of all of the harm that he had inadvertently caused. "I was naive and when I realized what was really being done with my work, I escaped," he finished simply, shrugging his shoulders. "That was four years ago."

"And they're still after you?" Buffy guessed, cocking her head to the side.

"Yes. Since I broke out I've spent every moment searching for my past, and I've come so close," he murmured, his eyes growing sad. "I was reunited with my dad very briefly, but I've lost him again, and I've seen my mom and sister once," he continued, his voice growing soft. "And I had found my brother... but he died to save me."

"I'm sorry," Buffy murmured, her heart going out to this man as she slowly stood from the chair, awkwardly placing her small hand on his shoulder. Sighing, she watched as Jarod seemed to struggle with old memories and wounds that hadn't had time to heal. Shaking her head, she understood why she felt she could relate to this man so well. His sacrifices and personal loss were something she could relate to. Sighing, she quickly turned her thoughts away as she gently squeezed his shoulder to draw his attention. "But what does your search for your family have to do with Harmony and Sunnydale?" she asked.

"Nothing," Jarod replied, shrugging his shoulders slightly as he smiled wearily at the girl. "When not looking for my family, I also try to use my gifts to help those who are unable to help themselves-"

"Righting wrongs and other such heroic stuff?" Buffy asked, trying to make him smile. "Well where's your tights?"

"Tights?" Jarod queried, his expression turning puzzled once more. "I've never worn tights... well, except for that one time..." he trailed off as Buffy blanched. "Anyway," he quickly continued, trying to hide his blush, "I'm just trying to make up for all the hurt I inadvertently caused with my sims from my time at the Centre."

At this, Buffy couldn't help a small smile. "Sounds like someone else I know," she murmured, her thoughts turning to Angel and his departure which still hurt so much. Frowning, she quickly buried those memories and turned back to Jarod. "So what's the story with Strip Tease, Gramps, Baldy, Boy Wonder, and the Gorilla?" she asked, watching as a small smile pulled at his lips.

"The 'strip tease,' is Miss Parker - daughter of the man in charge, Mr. Parker, and the person who's been in charge of chasing me for the last four years. We were friends as children but her mother's death has made her cold - and a good deal of fun to torment," he added, not voicing the other strange feelings that he had for his adversary. "With her was Sydney, my surrogate father from my stay at the Centre, Broots, their computer technician, Sam, one of the foot soldiers, so to speak, and.. Mr. Lyle," he finished, his gaze turning stormy.

"Mr. Lyle?" Buffy asked skeptically, her mind instantly returning to the image of the impeccably dressed, dark-haired man. "The creepy looking cocky guy?"

"Yes," Jarod responded simply, unable to control the small shudder that went through his body. "A very, very... bad man," he finished lamely as his thoughts went back the torture that he had endured under Lyle's care just a short time ago.

"Bad man?" Buffy echoed, trying to match the man's boyish grin with the faces of past evils she had faced. Failing miserably, she quickly shook her head. His little impish smile had nothing on any of the Big Bads that she had faced in her time. "Guess I'll just have to take your word for it."

"If that's all that you have to take, be grateful," Jarod muttered darkly, forcing himself to pull away from the memories. "He was the one who killed my brother and tortured me for nothing more than his amusement. You never want to have to see that side of him. Ever."

Horrified, Buffy found that for one of the first times in her relatively short life, she was speechless. What _could_ she reply to such a thing? And in the end, there was nothing that could be said to ease the pain that was shown in every tired crease on Jarod's face. Unwillingly, Buffy found her heart once more going out to this virtual stranger. "I'm sorry," she murmured, tentatively resting her hand once more on his arm as his eyes slowly lost their hardened edge.

Sighing, Jarod shrugged away her concern and forced a small smile for her. "Well, you've heard my story," he murmured as he backed up and settled on the creaking bed frame behind him. "Your turn."


	8. Chapter 8

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 8  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

"My turn?" Buffy parroted back, giving a small shrug as she settled on the green armchair. "But there's not much to tell," she countered, the lie slipping easily from her lips. "I work out a lot and-"

"I thought we had a deal," Jarod quickly interrupted, his small smile working to lighten the bite of his words. As his eyes narrowed on the petite blonde, he saw a small flush work up the girl's slender neck, staining her cheeks pink. And then, just as quickly the blush was replaced by a scowl as different emotions played over her features - indecision being the most evident.

"We do," Buffy agreed haltingly, shrugging her shoulders in acquiescence. "But it's not a pretty story," she warned, her voice light. Sighing, she finally looked up and met his gaze directly, obviously having made her decision. "I'm the Chosen One," she stated, as if that simple statement would explain everything. When it obviously didn't, she sighed tiredly and stretched out as if in for a long talk. "The vampires always understand," she muttered, her words causing Jarod's expression to cloud.

"Vampires? As in Brahm Stoker's novel, _Dracula_?" he asked, his innocence showing once again.

"Uh..." Buffy returned, her smile faltering. "I can see that this is going to take awhile," she sighed, running a hand through her long blonde hair. Forcing herself to focus, Buffy tried her best to remember the thick novel her sophomore lit teacher had forced them to read, only to realize that like most things learned in high school, the material had evidently been quickly forgotten. "More like 'Interview With A Vampire' type of vampire," she finally responded, the movie ringing much clearer than a stuffy British book. "Like of the soulless, blood-sucking demon variety," she quickly added.

At the familiar phrase, Jarod quickly sat forward, his hand reaching for the tender puncture wounds on his neck. "You mean... she-"

"Yep, Harmony's a vampire," Buffy agreed nonchalantly. "Happened at graduation," she explained in a way that really did nothing to explain. Seeing this, Buffy went back to her original track. "Okay, let's try this again. Everything bad that you've ever dreamt of? All of the bad things that go bump in the night and that were just supposed to be stories? Not so much stories," she countered, her tone eerily flippant in light of the heavy subject. "Vampires are real. Demons are real. And I'm the one who fights them."

"I don't understand," Jarod countered, unsure whether he really didn't understand, or whether he didn't want to. This went beyond anything he had ever been taught at the Centre and in all honesty, he wasn't sure if he really wanted that little bit of innocence lost. After this conversation, he knew that he would never again be able to look out into the night in the same, carefree way he had always done so in the past. What this girl was talking about was something that science held no bounds on.

"I didn't either, or at least at first I didn't want to," Buffy admitted sympathetically, finally softening as she recognized the look in his dark eyes. "I mean, I was normal. Completely, everyday normal," she continued, her eyes drifting back to memories of days long past, a small smile lifting her lips. "I lived in LA, had a boyfriend, was on the cheerleading squad, and was as ditzy and clueless as the majority of teenage girls are supposed to be at that age. I was young and happy and... oblivious to what fate had in store for me."

"So what happened?"

"I grew up. Fast," Buffy murmured, her eyes turning hard. "When I was fifteen I was called and became the Chosen One."

"The Chosen One," Jarod murmured, remembering the phrase from earlier and pushing it aside for the moment. "You say you were called. Called how?" Jarod asked, trying to understand what could have happened to this girl to so obviously turn her life upside down.

"When the girl before me died," Buffy explained, watching as Jarod recoiled in shock at her blunt words. Sighing once again, Buffy quickly pushed ahead. "There has always been a Slayer - one girl chosen in every generation to fight the evil. When one dies, the next one is called to take her place," she said, spelling out her destiny as simply as she could. "When the last Slayer died, I was called. Wham bam, no thank you Ma'am," she smirked, obviously trying to keep Jarod from looking at her with such horror-filled eyes - and failing miserably.

"It's not as bad as it seems," she quickly added, shrugging her small shoulders. "After coming out here from LA with my Mom, I met my friends. I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for them," she admitted, her smile growing fond. "Together we stop all of nasties from ending the world."

At her description, Jarod felt a small smile lift his lips. "The Mayor?" he guessed, finally connecting the redhead's earlier puzzling statement. "He was a... nasty?"

"Exactly," Buffy agreed with a hint of a smile. "Giles, who you met earlier, is my Watcher... a group of stuffy British guys who are supposed to help the Slayer know what's coming and train her for it. Although, I've recently told them that they can bite me until the next Slayer is called - not literally, of course," she quickly amended as Jarod unconsciously lifted a hand to his tender neck.

"Yet your Giles-"

"Is different," Buffy interrupted firmly, her eyes glittering. "Neither of us work for the Watcher's Council anymore, and if anything, Giles has become like a father to me," she admitted, her smile warming at the thought of her watcher.

Smiling weakly, Jarod slowly nodded his head in understanding. He could relate to what she said. After all, Sydney was the only father that he had ever known. And while the older Belgium had tried to be impartial and detached, he knew that deep down the man cared for him very much. He was part of the reason Jarod could never really cut ties with the Centre - one of the reasons that he always left clues for the Centre to track him with. He couldn't say goodbye to Sydney forever... not yet. "And your friends?" he finally asked, really beginning to understand this girl.

"The Scoobies," she corrected, watching as his face lit up in a childish grin of delight.

"In reference to the children's cartoon, Scooby-Doo?" he asked, his smile genuine this time.

"Well, yeah," Buffy laughed, amused by his eagerness. "I take it that it was a childhood favorite of yours?"

"Oh no," Jarod countered quickly, obviously now in full swing. "I was never allowed to watch television while growing up. I just discovered Scooby-Doo while working at a children's AIDS clinic in Vermont a few weeks back. The most amusing show!" he crowed, his eyes twinkling as he began to bounce eagerly on the bed. "Although I never understood why they always got 'the munchies' nor why Shaggy seemed so..." he trailed off, obviously searching for a word.

"Stoned?" Buffy supplied, smirking at Jarod's confusion.

"Stoned," Jarod repeated, testing the unfamiliar word. "I don't understand."

"Obviously," she laughed, reminding herself that it wasn't his fault that he had grown up locked up in some institution. As that realization hit, Buffy quickly sobered.

Seeing this, Jarod sobered in turn, his earlier mirth forgotten as he turned back to her story. In his eyes, everything seemed so unfair. It was obvious that this job was something that Buffy had never asked for - something that she had never wanted. And even if she had fought it at one point, something had made her keep going - to finally accept it. Yet it didn't take a genius to figure out where this line of work would eventually lead her, no matter how good or careful she was.

"What's wrong?" Buffy asked, watching as Jarod's face slowly tightened, a small frown pulling at his lips.

"It's just that... well... you can't do this forever," he murmured, his eyes skipping away from hers.

"You're right," Buffy agreed, her own mortality hanging heavily around her. "And I won't," she countered softly, his eyes slowly meeting hers once again. "Someday, maybe soon, I'm going to die," she murmured, "and then the next Slayer will be called and someone else will take my place."

"And you're okay with this?" Jarod asked, incredulous at her nonchalance.

"Well I don't want to die, if that's what your asking," Buffy quickly countered, the smile once more returning to her full lips. "Then again, been there, died already - momentarily," she added with a smirk, "and besides, it comes with the job."

Sighing, Jarod slowly leaned back on the bed until he was resting back on his elbows, his eyes taking in the small girl that sat before him. He knew that looks could be deceiving, and that was especially evident in this case, for within that small shell he knew there was great power and even more strength.

Yet the only thing the 'girl' could focus on for the moment was how uncomfortable she was beginning to feel under Jarod's direct gaze. It was as if he was no longer looking at her, but beyond her and into something deep inside. "So... ah.." she murmured, her voice a little too quick as Jarod's eyes returned to her once again. "I guess that means I'm the Slayer and you're the Pretender. Titles for us both."

"So it seems," Jarod allowed, a lazy smile pulling at his lips.

"And while I think that I've more than proven the fact that I'm a Slayer, what with saving your life earlier tonight and dusting a vampire before you," she continued, her eyes twinkling, "you have yet to do _anything_ to prove this ability of yours."

"But-"

"And don't think you can use Strip Tease and Wonder Boy back there as proof," she countered, her smile growing. "All that proves in my mind is that you have bad taste in who you associate with."

"I'm associating with you right now," Jarod quickly countered, deciding that he liked this girl. She was witty, spunky, and spoke in ways that made his mind spin to catch up. Almost like a new language for him to learn.

"Huh," Buffy grunted, her eyes narrowing briefly. "Then I guess that there's hope for you after all. Now how can you prove to me that you're really this grand genius with the ability to become anyone you want to be?" she asked, repeating his earlier description of himself with a few additions.

"I could do a simulation," Jarod suggested, his voice catching slightly as he stared at her, his gaze intense once more.

"Oookay," Buffy murmured, shifting uncomfortably in her ugly green chair. "How does that work?"

"Well who do you want me to become?"

"I don't know. My mom always wanted me to become a doctor or..." she trailed off as her eyes slowly narrowed on him. "Who do _you_ want to become?" she asked, throwing his question back at him.

"You," was his quick response, watching as her green eyes widened before an incredulous smile lifted her lips.

"Me?" she laughed, absently brushing a wisp of blonde from her forehead. "Why would you want to become me? Trust me, not a whole lot of fun," she insisted even as her curiosity got the better of her. "What does a simulation of me entail, exactly?"

"I become you and find out what makes you, you... why you keep going when you know what your future is. Why don't you run away?" he asked, his voice becoming deeper as he once more stared at her like he wasn't just looking at her, but through her - into her where no one else had gone before. At least not since Angel had left.

Despite herself, Buffy found her body leaning slightly forward, her eyes narrowing as Jarod slowly sat up, the two unconsciously drawing together. "Because I tried that already," she murmured, her mind drifting back to last summer when she had left Sunnydale in hopes of escaping herself and the memories that would haunt her to the end of her days - no matter how close or far away those days were. But all of that time spent running was wasted. "Running away solves nothing," she murmured, her gaze once more turning hard as her eyes locked on the Pretender's. "It's my-"

"Destiny," Jarod finished for her, already knowing what she was going to say as he opened himself up to the girl before him.

Surprised, Buffy could only look at the man before her as he quickly stood and moved across the room. Speechless, she watched as he drew a matching chair before her, settling his long frame into it as he took both of her hands into his large ones, drawing her forward until their foreheads bumped against each other.

"You can't run away because you've tried that before and it only hurt the ones that you love," Jarod continued, completely caught up in the pretend. "It's guilt and duty that makes you stay, because if you're not there to stop the evil, then no one is and innocent people get hurt - maybe even those that you love. You've tried before and you've lost those that you love before. You can't live with that guilt and so you stay and you fight, for all of those who are unable to fight for themselves..." he trailed off as he slowly came out of his self-induced trance, an uncomfortable thickness forming in his chest from all of the feelings that he knew this girl had felt at one point or another in her short life. He could feel the bitterness of all that she had lost, the pain and pressure from what the world expected of her, and the stifling waves of loss that surrounded her every movement. Startled, he tore his eyes away from the haunted look in Buffy's eyes, watching as a single tear traced a salty path down her tanned cheek. Sighing, he gently reached up and brushed the tear away. "Way off the mark?" he asked with a tentative smile.

"Completely," Buffy joked, her laugh catching in her throat as she turned her eyes away. It was eerie how this man that she had only known a few hours seemed to understand her better than she understood herself. Attempting a smile, she turned back to the Pretender. "You know, I don't understand why they'd want you back anyway. You obviously don't know what you're doing," she murmured, a small smile playing at her lips.

"Buffy-" Xander's voice cut in, interrupting her words.

Startled, Buffy quickly scooted back in her chair as Xander stepped into the room. Embarrassed for some reason, she couldn't help the blush that burned in her cheeks as her friend took in their close proximity.

"Am I, uh, interrupting something?" he asked, his eyes sliding suspiciously over the Pretender's lean form as the man slowly stood and began collecting his stuff.

"Interrupting?" Buffy chirped, too loudly she realized, as she caught Jarod's amused grin. "What would you be-"

"Forget I asked," Xander cut in, rolling his eyes as he jerked his thumb towards the open door. "Your car is warmed up and ready to go - Giles even had me gas it up so you wouldn't have to stop until you're very clear of here."

"Thank you," Jarod murmured sincerely, watching as the teen fidgeted in the doorway before glancing back into the dark night.

"Don't worry about it," he said, shrugging away the man's thanks as he turned back. "But uh... you should probably get going."

"Right," Jarod agreed, slinging his duffel over his shoulder and hefting the heavy DSA player from the table. As he headed towards the door he paused briefly before the small blonde. "Thank you," he murmured, watching as Buffy imitated her friend's careless shrug.

"Just doing my job," she replied casually, feeling Xander step up behind her in a familiar wave of protectiveness.

"I know," he replied solemnly, his eyes holding hers for the briefest of moments before he turned and headed towards the open door. "Good luck, Buffy. Maybe we'll meet again some day," he added before disappearing into the dark night.

Sighing, Buffy watched him go as Xander stepped around her, watching the open door in silence for a few still moments.

"So... what _did_ I interrupt?" he asked, breaking the peaceful silence as he winked exaggeratedly at his friend.

Shaking away her heavy thoughts, Buffy managed a weak grin at her friend as she started for the door. "I already told you, nothing."

"Uh huh..." Xander murmured, preparing himself for the blow he knew would follow. "Were you guys having sex?"

"Xander!"

"Ouch!"

* * *

Cursing beneath her breath, Miss Parker sent the deserted hospital parking lot a scathing glare as she angrily adjusted her short skirt with one hand while she reached for the door with the other. "Broots, call and have the jet ready," she hissed over her shoulder, wanting nothing more than to get away from this accursed town. Not only did she have her prey sitting right before her, obviously in no condition to try any more of his tricks to escape her once again, but it was all foiled by a teenager who had the gall to _insult_ her. If her father ever... no, if Brigette ever heard of how a girl managed to unarm them all and get away with the prize...well, she certainly wouldn't be living _that_ down anytime soon. "Broots," she hissed again, showing her extreme impatience as she hazarded a glare to end all glares over her shoulder, frowning as the computer technician attempted to balance the large sweeper between Sydney and himself. Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose as she turned away. "When I catch Jarod-"

"This time it's hardly Jarod's doing," Sydney interrupted her quiet rant, fumbling to open the car door to help ease the groggy sweeper within. "The girl-"

"Never existed, as far as I'm concerned," Parker warned, her eyes glittering dangerously as she slid her lean frame into the passenger seat, tucking her legs trimly behind the console as Broots scurried for the driver's side door. Sighing as she felt yet another migraine coming on, Miss Parker wearily turned and watched as her brother finished his hushed conversation, tucking his small phone away. "Lyle, let's go," she called out, her voice brooking no argument.

"Go on without me," Lyle replied, stepping beside the window and grinning innocently at his sister. "I think I'm going to stick around here for a little while longer, take in the sights."

Suspicion glittering in her eyes, Parker shook her head curtly. "Why bother? You know it's useless to stay here in this shithole. Jarod is probably fleeing the city limits as we speak. We can try and track him from the air."

"I have some other... business, to take care of. I'll meet you back at the Centre," he replied, rocking back on his heels as he flashed her his most charming smile once again. Which only caused her frown to deepen as she scowled at him.

Torn between the ever-present suspicion for her brother and the fierce desire to put as much space between herself and this nightmare as possible, Miss Parker eyed her brother for a moment, eyes narrowed dangerously. It was a contest, of sorts, that never seemed to have a clear victor between the siblings. But then the match was decided for them as Sam groaned loudly from behind her.

"Miss Parker?" Broots questioned timidly, hazarding a glance at Sydney, who merely cocked his head in return.

"Fine," Miss Parker murmured, conceding momentary defeat as she scowled at everyone present. "Let's go," she ordered, hating the weariness that crept into those two words as she leaned back into the soft leather of the seats. Sometimes she really hated the person that Jarod made her become... that the Centre's objectives made her become.

"Have a nice trip!" Lyle called out, for no other reason than to see his sister scowl once more as the car pulled away into the quiet night. Smiling thoughtfully, he watched their taillights dwindle and then disappear as he reached for his phone once again. Pushing one button, he held the small device to his ear as the line began to ring. "Have you found a match?" he asked, even before the other party could utter a greeting. "Good," he murmured, nodding as a small smile lifted his lips. "Have a team of sweepers come down from LA immediately and meet me at the hospital here in Sunnydale," he ordered as he slowly began back towards the brightly lit area of the large hospital. "We have a new project underfoot."


	9. Chapter 9

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 9  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

One Month Later - The Centre

"Miss Parker, I think I have a lead on Jarod," Broots cried as he hurried into the room, coming to a quick and bumbling halt at the glare that was sent in his direction. "I, uh, was able to get a match on the writing..." he trailed off as Miss Parker's sharp eyes flickered from him to someone sitting in the chair by her desk, and back in his direction once again. Confused, Broots slowly turned and felt his face pale as he took in Lyle's grinning countenance.

"You were saying?" he queried, smiling broadly as his sister's shoulders slumped at his words.

"The... the notes were written with oyster juice," Broots continued, wishing he could take back his earlier entrance. While Mr. Lyle had been anything but obtrusive the last few weeks, any time spent with him added to Broots' constant nervousness. And to think that he thought Miss Parker was bad - she was _nothing_ compared to the evil that was her brother. He smiled like he was America's golden boy while Broots just _knew_ that on the inside he was plotting something sinister. Probably something to do with eviscerating him if he messed up.

"Oyster juice! How creative!" Lyle crowed, enjoying his twin's every frustrated sigh and glare in the computer technician's direction. Sitting forward, he began to gently tap a slim finger against his smooth chin, a thoughtful expression flitting across his face. "And what is the elusive lab rat up to this time? Or more specifically, do we know _where_?" he asked, watching idly as Sydney joined their little group.

"It seems that Jarod is leading us to a wax museum in San Francisco," the older man supplied, silently appraising the situation as Broots carefully laid a sheaf of papers before Miss Parker.

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" Lyle prompted, climbing from the chair and heading towards the door. "I always enjoy San Francisco in the-" he broke off as his cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Frowning, he paused to lift the small device to his ear. Within seconds the frown was replaced by a grin of delight as he muttered a few words and then snapped the phone shut, turning to his twin with a large smile. "On second thought, send Jarod my regards," he said as he turned towards the door.

"But-" Miss Parker stuttered in disbelief, watching her brother's retreating back with a mixture of confusion and relief. With narrowed eyes, she quickly turned towards the others.

"I wonder what that was about," Broots murmured, his gaze turning thoughtful as he turned to the others.

"Evidently something important enough to draw him away from the hunt for Jarod," Sydney added, his gaze mirroring Broots' before he shrugged away the curious fact. "Which means that we really should be off before he changes his mind. Did you secure the jet?" he asked, his question directed at the computer technician.

"Yeah, it should be waiting for us," Broots agreed as he turned towards the door, following the older man and only pausing when he realized that they were one person short. "Miss Parker, are you coming?"

Startled, Miss Parker finally drew her eyes away from where her brother had disappeared. She didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit. Sometimes it seemed that Lyle's one enjoyment in life was making her own life more difficult. He relished in her every frustration, and when it came to Jarod, his enjoyment of the game seemed to turn deadly. Many times, she wondered if Lyle's hate was to the point where he would prefer the lab rat dead as much as captured. Put that together with Lyle passing up an opportunity to frustrate herself and possibly encounter the elusive Pretender... it had to be something very important indeed to draw him away. And that was what worried her most. Anything that held her twin's attention that closely was bound to be bad for the rest of them.

"Miss Parker?" Sydney queried once again. "The jet is waiting."

"Let's go," she stated, her voice flat as she moved from around her desk and followed the other two out the door. They were right. Jarod was always their main objective and the mysteries that were Lyle could wait. "Let's find our lab rat."

* * *

Morning had crept quietly upon the small town of Sunnydale, stealing the moon's last silver rays and casting its inhabitants into the slow early morning light. Under the morning's cloak of shadows, a sleek black car drew to a halt outside the small hotel, a slim man slipping from its doors as a soft summer wind tousled his fine brown hair.

"Mr. Lyle," a lumbering man greeted as he walked towards one set of rooms towards the back of the structure.

Barely pausing to nod to the miscellaneous sweeper, Lyle hurried past and was quickly swallowed into a haze of smoke and bright lights, loud voices cascading over him. But as the door clicked shut behind him, the room fell silent as all eyes turned towards him.

"Well?" he asked, his eyes searching those of the men gathered, sliding past one and another until they lit upon a tall, slim black man man standing towards the back of the large room, his hair cropped close to his dark head.

"She's back," he answered simply, cocking his gun and sliding it into the holster at his side.

"And the preparations?"

"Complete. Mr. Raines has been notified and we'll be ready to move tonight."

For a moment, Lyle didn't respond as he slowly mulled over the news, his eyes sliding away from Willie and taking in the assortment of sweepers that filled the room. Four men. Four of the best sweepers that the Centre had to offer, ready to take his plan into action. "And everyone has seen the tapes?"

"Every one of them. We're ready."

"Good," Lyle murmured, his trademark cold smile lifting his lips once again. "Good."

* * *

As the deep vestiges of sleep slowly left her body, Buffy found herself drifting somewhere between sleep and the waking world, trying to process what was waking her. As the small sound filtered through her senses once again, Buffy had her answer as she jolted awake, tossing her comforter aside as she crept on light feet to her bureau, ignoring her pimpled flesh as the air conditioned air prickled at her tanned skin. It took less than a second for the confusion of sleep to fade as Buffy's eyes slid around her brightly lit room, the morning sun banishing all shadows and casting the room into light. The threat wasn't here.

The sound came again, so quiet that it was impossible to discern its source as Buffy quietly slid open her top drawer and instinctively bypassed the stake, what with the bright sunshine pouring in her room, and went right for what could do the most damage to someone who wasn't her typical vampire: a wickedly long knife. As the sound came again, Buffy moved to her door on silent feet, the plush carpet muffling her movements as she pulled open her door. Carefully she arched her slender neck around the edge, her eyes warily taking in the empty hallway. She crept into the area, the light once more banishing the shadows she usually dwelt in. She moved towards the stairs as the sound came again, this time definitely from behind her and further down the hall. Freezing, Buffy turned and made her way back down the hall, finally pausing outside her mother's closed bedroom door. Steeling herself, she tightened her grip on the blade's hilt, took a deep breath, and then she launched into action.

Shoving the door open, Buffy quickly dove and rolled over the plush carpeting, the knife tucked at her side as her eyes took in a shift of movement on the other side of her mother's bed, by the closet. Finishing her roll, Buffy drew back and was about to launch her knife at the intruder when her eyes registered the familiar vision. "Mom?" she choked, catching her hand at the very last instant, her eyes locking on her mother's wide, startled eyes.

"Buffy, good heavens!" her mother cried, holding her hand to her chest as her wide eyes took in the large knife that had almost been sent in her direction.

"What are you doing here?" Buffy quickly retorted, hurrying to her feet as she quickly dropped the knife on her mother's bedside stand. "And more important, why didn't you call and let me know you were coming? I could have killed you!" she protested, her eyes sweeping over the room and noting the large suitcase that was open on her mother's bed.

"Well I thought that it could be a surprise," Joyce muttered, finally getting her heartbeat back to a normal rate as she returned to her unpacking.

"Mom, we've been over this," Buffy sighed as she shuffled forward and draped herself over the large bed. "I'm the Slayer. You just don't surprise the Slayer or bad things happen."

"Hmm, I guess I was focusing more on the fact that you're my _daughter_," Joyce responded, her smile tight-lipped as she paused in her task and took in her daughter's appearance, from her blue cotton boxer shorts to her small white tank with a large pink heart etched on the front, hair mussed from sleep. "And at the moment, you hardly look the part of danger," she added, a small smile lifting her lips.

Smiling, Buffy admitted defeat as she took in her mother's own appearance. It had been a little over a month since she had seen her last and it didn't look as much had changed - the same curly hair and lean figure. On the other hand, the dark rings under her mother's eyes were a new touch. "How's Gram?" Buffy asked, switching tracks as her mother sighed softly.

"Not well," Joyce admitted, abandoning her efforts as she moved towards the bed. Buffy quickly scooted aside to allow room for her mother as she settled onto the soft mattress, her hand reaching forward to absently toy with her daughter's golden locks. "The doctor's don't think it will be much longer," she murmured, her voice catching as she thought of her mother - the only family she had left besides her daughter. Both she and Hank were only children, and with his parents having passed away when Buffy was just a little girl, and her own father having died in the war... her mother and daughter were all that she had left.

"I'm sorry," Buffy murmured, sitting up quickly and wrapping her small arms around her mother's shoulders.

Sighing, Joyce returned the hug, breathing in her daughter's sweet scent and holding her close. All too soon the moment ended as Buffy pulled away, her eyes filled with concern. To her unasked question, Joyce slowly nodded her head. "I won't be home for long," she murmured, watching as her daughter's expression fell. "I just need to check up on some things at the gallery and then I need to go back. Probably no more than a few days."

"Hey, no big," Buffy quickly countered, forcing a smile for her mother. "I'm a big girl and can take care of myself," she proclaimed. "See, house still in one glorious piece," she continued, waving her hand at the room around them. "Besides, college will be starting soon and then you'll really be rid of me!"

At this, Joyce had to force her own smile. "How could I forget?" she murmured, her eyes turning away. "My baby is growing up and about to leave the nest."

"Not really," Buffy countered, nudging her mother's side. "After all, the Slayer can't really leave the Hellmouth. I'll be right across town and will be back for good food and free laundry quite often!" she joked, earning another pained smile.

Sighing, Joyce slowly shook her head as she once more attempted to unpack her large bag. "Well, what have I missed?"

"Missed?" Buffy mused, going over the last month or so in her mind. "Hmm... whole lot of nothing," she summed up, rolling lazily over on the soft comforter. "Xander left for his grand road trip of the US a few weeks ago, Giles has re-alphabetized his entire home library, and Willow and I have increased our wardrobes by many visits to the mall," she recounted, watching as her mother sorted through her clothing. "Oh, and Oz is finally back in town. He and the Dingoes are playing tonight at the Bronze."

At this, Joyce finally paused in her unpacking, just long enough to let a small frown slip through. "So you'll be going to the Bronze tonight?" she asked, hoping to mask her disappointment.

"Only for a brief appearance," Buffy assured, not missing her mother's crestfallen expression. "After I'll make a quick stop at Giles to give him the heads up and be home in time for many sappy movies and bowls of ice cream," she continued, her grin broadening as she reached out to tug on the hem of her mother's shirt. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," Joyce murmured, turning to envelop her daughter in a fierce hug. "I've missed you, too."

* * *

"So your mom is back," Oz summed up later that night, his arm tightening around Willow's small shoulders as he nodded his head towards Buffy from across their usual table.

"Back and ready to bond," Buffy confirmed, her eyes skipping over the people in the crowded club before turning back to Oz's familiar countenance. "Which is why I'm skipping out on your performance tonight. Sorry," she added, shrugging her shoulders impishly as she flashed a wry smile.

"No big," he responded in his usual monosyllabic manner. "After all, mom's are important. I can dig."

"And besides, I'll still be here to be all cheery and yay Oz!" Willow quipped, grinning at her boyfriend as she snuggled against his side.

"See," Buffy added, nodding to the couple, "not even needed."

"No. You'll always be needed," Oz countered, smiling one of his rare smiles as his eyes skipped back to where his band was beginning to gather - time for their set to begin. "Later," he added as he slipped away, pausing to give Willow a quick kiss before disappearing into the throngs of dancing teens.

Sighing, Willow watched him go before turning back to her friend. "Well tell your mom I said hi and that I'll probably see her tomorrow," the redhead added, trying to focus back on her friend and failing miserably.

Laughing, Buffy could only shake her head at her friend's love struck expression, even as a pang of sadness tore through her heart. She knew that her own face hadn't wore such a look since Angel had left. The worst part was that she didn't know if it would ever hold such a look again. Sighing, Buffy shrugged the past away and smiled at her friend once more. "Have fun tonight," she called out, her voice quickly lost amongst the beat of the Dingoe's first song and obviously lost to her friend, who was already standing and clapping loudly for the band. Smiling, Buffy turned and took her leave. She had one more stop to make.

* * *

"Giles!" Buffy called as she opened the wooden door, poking her head around the corner and eyeing the small and empty living room. "Hello? Anybody home?" she called again, slowly stepping into the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

"Don't you ever knock?" came Giles' reply as he turned away from his stove and eyed his Slayer over the rim of his glasses.

"Nah, keeps you on your toes," Buffy quipped as she crossed the room and settled on one of the hard stools that lined the bar that separated his kitchen from the living room. "Whatcha making?" she asked, her nose wrinkling at the horrible stench that wafted from her watcher's pan. "Please don't say dinner!"

Fighting a small smile, Giles turned away from his concoction and allowed one of his patented frowns to slip through. "It's called-"

"Whatever," Buffy interrupted, smiling innocently as she reached down to fiddle with the hem of her red halter. "So, got a proposition for you," she continued, watching as Giles' features instantly turned suspicious.

"I'm listening," Giles prompted, turning fully away from the stove and moving to stand before his slayer. As he took in her red, sparkly halter top and her tight-fitting black pants, booty pants, as he believed Willow referred to them, and high-heeled boots, he thought that he had an idea of what was coming. After all, his Slayer was hardly dressed in her typical patrol clothing.

"So, my mom is back in town for a few days," she started, absently twirling a lock of her blonde hair round one finger, "and seeing as how it's been all quiet Hellmouth lately..."

"You'd like to go clubbing?" Giles prompted, his gaze turning purposely towards her wardrobe.

"Huh?" Buffy murmured, taken aback as she followed her watcher's gaze down to her Bronze-worthy clothes. "Oh, this? Uh uh," Buffy countered, shaking her head curtly as she frowned at her watcher. "Already been there, done that - I just wanted to know if I could skip out on patrol so I could hang with my mom. I promise to do double time tomorrow-"

"Of course," Giles interrupted with a small smile, watching as his slayer graced him with a bright grin. Even though Buffy rarely talked about her feelings, Giles knew how much she had missed her mother the past month while she was away. With her father being less of a father day by day, he found Buffy turning to him more and more as a parental figure - especially with her mother temporarily out of the picture as well. And while he enjoyed the attention and the feelings that the small girl provoked in him, he knew that all children needed their mother and a mother's love. "Although I do expect you to patrol 'double time' tomorrow," he continued, trying to be stern as Buffy impulsively reached across the counter and squeezed him in her small embrace.

"Thank you, Giles," she murmured, her breath soft against his ear as she quickly pulled away, skipping from the stool and hurrying towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow!" she called over her shoulder, pausing to wave once before disappearing through his door as quickly as she had appeared.

Sighing, Giles watched the door through shuttered eyes. "That girl," he murmured, with more affection and love then he could ever dare to express. Sighing, he turned away and moved once more back to the stove. "My girl."

* * *

As Buffy hurried up the walk, she eyed the strange car that sat in her driveway with disappointed eyes. She didn't recognize the dark car, and after all the work that she had gone through, all of the loved ones that she had to disappoint in order to get this night ready, she didn't want to have to share her mother with strangers. After all, tonight was supposed to have been about the two of them, bonding like they had always done when she was little or when the world got to be too much.

Sighing, she pushed aside her disappointment and moved towards the door, forcing a bright smile as she pushed it open and stepped into the brightly lit hall. "Mom?" she called, the door clicking shut behind her as she turned and moved into the entrance to the living room, freezing as she took in the strange man facing towards the mantle opposite her. "Where's my-" she began, her words dying on her lips as the man slowly turned, his back resting casually against the mantle behind him. "Who are-" she began, her words dying away as she took in his slim figure and dark hair. She knew this man from somewhere... saw him... "Wonder Boy!" she cried out, finally remembering when she had seen him last - the night that she had met Jarod.


	10. Chapter 10

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 10  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

"Wonder Boy!" she cried out, her voice hard as she quickly stalked across the room and shoved the man back against the wall, easily pinning him with one hand around his neck. "What are you doing back in my town?" she whispered, her eyes glaring daggers into his. "In my living room, no less? I thought that you would have learned the first time that it's not a good idea to mess with me or my town," she continued, irritated by the way that his confident little smile never left his lips.

Struggling against the constriction against his throat, Lyle's smile grew even brighter. "Oh, I got your message the first time around," he managed to say, his eyes twinkling.

Pausing, Buffy shook her head at the stupidity of the guy. "Still searching for Jarod?" she asked, her gaze hardening as she thought of their sole common link, the man that had unknowingly brought them all together so many weeks ago. "If so, sorry, but haven't seen him."

"No," Lyle muttered, straining to get the words past his bruised windpipe, his eyes narrowed on the small girl before him. Because of her shorter stature, he found himself looking down on her golden crown of hair, bright green eyes glaring up from a deceptively young face. Eighteen. His sources said that this girl was only eighteen, yet she held him with a grip that spoke of men much larger and older than her. Despite the tapes and his previous encounter, it was nearly impossible for him to reconcile the small girl that stood before him with the strength that she displayed. "I'll leave catching Jarod to my sister," he finally continued, a smirk replacing his smile as he thought of his twin. "I have other... projects to see to."

"Really?" Buffy murmured, her voice like acid as her grip tightened once more. "More people to torture and lives to ruin?" she asked, Jarod's words coming back to her; his vague description of all that Lyle had done to him - the lives that he had so casually ruined. When Jarod had spoken of this man, there had been such hate and anger in his eyes... and fear. It was the fear that spoke to her more than anything. This slight man with the clean cut, even handsome features, immaculately dressed, was responsible for killing Jarod's brother and torturing Jarod for no other reason than his personal enjoyment. He was a monster - only this one hid its ugliness on the inside, where most would never see its hideousness. However, Buffy knew in that instant that were he a true monster, the kind that she fought on a nightly basis, he wouldn't be standing before her, smirking at her innocently for long. Instead, he would be staring down the business end of her stake. "Well, whose life is it this time?" she asked, getting back to their inane dialogue.

"Yours," came Lyle's short reply, relishing in the girl's evident confusion as his eyes turned away to stare deliberately at a point just behind her.

Instantly alert, Buffy was just beginning to turn as she felt a sharp sting on the back of her neck. Wincing, she quickly reached back and tightened her hand around a slim, metal cylinder. Frowning, she pulled the object from where it was embedded in her skin and brought it before her, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the small dart. Confused, she slowly turned her eyes back towards Lyle as a wave of weakness filtered through her limbs, causing her to stumble away and turn towards the entryway behind her, her eyes taking in the large man that stood there, a dart gun slowly lowering to his side. Trying to fight the drug that seeped through her veins, Buffy stumbled against the wall, watching as Lyle waved another man forward.

"What's... what's going on?" she murmured as the new man roughly jerked her arms behind her back, wincing as cold steel tightened mercilessly around her slim wrists.

"You know," Lyle began, drawing the girl's attention as he absently closed the distance between them, using one gloved finger to lift her chin and force her to meet his eyes, "I'm rather disappointed at how _easy_ it was to capture the Slayer."

Freezing, Buffy felt her eyes narrow as she jerked away from Lyle's touch. "How do you-" she began, her mind awhirl at his words. She had never mentioned being the Slayer to him. Of that she was certain.

"Weve been watching you, Elizabeth Ann Summers," Lyle murmured, his voice low and seductive as he took a few steps back, his annoying grin replaced by a thoughtful expression that was somehow even more disturbing. "And Ive done my research."

"I don't understand," Buffy murmured, a chill sweeping down her spine as she began testing the strength of her bonds.

"Well I didn't understand at first, either," Lyle countered, his gaze sweeping around the deceptively normal looking room. "Here I was, finally about to capture that stupid lab rat when a girl lays not only my man flat, but myself as well," he murmured, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw at the remembered encounter. "At the Centre, we're always on the lookout for anything that could bring potential profit, for anything that we could benefit from, and you caught my attention," he murmured, his eyes sliding over her slim frame. "I had a team sent down to keep an eye out, and in no time my men began giving reports of monsters that had fangs and drank people's blood. I saw surveillance tapes of demons that viciously attacked this small California town... and of the small girl that somehow managed to fight them all," he continued, watching as her eyes widened slightly at his words, as the realization that she had been followed all this time slowly sunk in.

"I didn't believe it," he added, his eyes returning to hers. "I couldn't believe it because it went against everything that I knew about this world - I couldn't believe that this kind of _evil_ existed," he stressed, his eyes seemingly lost until a lazy grin suddenly lifted his lips. "I couldn't believe it until I realized that this evil you fight every single night - that you risk your life for in secret and that makes up your entire existence... it's nothing compared to me," he finished as he waved towards someone behind her.

Confused, Buffy followed Lyle's gaze and felt her breath catch in her throat as her mother was dragged into the room. "Mom!" she gasped, her muscles instantly straining as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

"Buffy!" Joyce cried out, her eyes wide and panicked as she took in her daughter's restraints, her eyes dancing back and forth between her and the man in the dark suit. "I didn't know," she babbled, struggling futilely against the two men that held her. "They were strangers, but I didn't invite them in! I didn't invite them in!" she gasped, her eyes wild.

Closing her eyes briefly against this gross display, Buffy finally felt her patience wane. Lifting her head, Buffy felt her eyes narrow into emerald slits as she met Lyle's gaze. "If you've been watching me," she began, "then the first thing that you should have learned is that you never touch my family or friends or I become very, very unhappy," she murmured, her smile turning hard as she suddenly jerked away from her captor, stomping on his foot and then sending an elbow to his throat that sent him gagging to the floor. In one fluid movement she then ducked the bumbling attack of the man with the dart gun, pivoting on her ankle and sending her foot crashing against his jaw.

As her attacker joined his friend on the ground, Buffy paused long enough to snap the cuffs as though they were no more than lengths of string. She then launched herself at the men holding her mother, crossing the distance between them faster than their eyes could follow and sending them both to the ground in seconds. "And you also should have learned," she continued, not even out of breath as she pushed her mother behind her, turning to Mr. Lyle once more with a small grin, "that Slayers aren't like other people. We heal quickly and drugs just don't affect us like normal people."

"Oh, I have," Lyle countered, quickly lifting a gun from the folds of his jacket and firing repeatedly, watching in satisfaction as all six darts hit their mark.

Startled, Buffy didn't even have a chance to voice her surprise as a weakness unlike anything she had ever experienced before burned through her veins. Groaning, she felt herself begin to fall forward, only to be caught and cradled by gentle arms from behind her.

"Oh God, Buffy," she dimly heard her mother whisper, a soft hand running across her face and through her tangled hair as she strove to fight the darkness that waited to claim her.

Seeing her daughter's struggle, Joyce felt the tears build in her eyes, trailing unbidden down her pale cheeks. Cradling her small form in her arms as though she were still the little girl that had grown up far too quickly, she pulled the many small darts from her daughter's form, tossing them angrily to the carpet beside them. "Buffy! Buffy, can you hear me?" she called loudly, brushing a hand over her daughter's cheek as Buffy blinked slowly in reply, obviously trying to focus on her mother.

"Mom?" Buffy murmured, her voice so young and lost that it instantly tore at Joyce's heart, brining fresh tears to her eyes as a man's laughter filled the room.

Torn from her thoughts, Joyce hugged her precious daughter closer to her and glared at the man that had brought this trouble down upon them. "Leave her alone!" she cried, trying to sound fierce and instead dismayed at the shrillness of her own voice. "Get out of my house and leave us be!" she cried again, watching as the man's smile only grew.

"Well, Mom," he began, idly passing the horrid dart gun off to one of his recovering goons as he flexed his leather gloves, "while I don't appreciate your tone, we will be following through with one of your requests. We're leaving. With your daughter," he added, almost as an afterthought as he waved his men forward, one roughly dragging Joyce away from Buffy while two others took the Slayer by each arm, hoisting her barely conscious form between them.

"And the mother?" Willie asked, stepping beside Lyle as he absently massaged his aching jaw. "What do you want done with her?"

Sighing, Lyle paused briefly as his eyes flicked back to the struggling woman, her cries falling on deaf ears, and back towards the Slayer, her eyes locked on her struggling mother. "Well let's not repeat history, shall we?" he asked, reaching towards the Sweeper and taking his pistol from his shoulder holster, quickly twisting a silencer on the end. "I won't allow another Jarod," he murmured.

In that moment, it was as though a sudden stillness had fallen upon the room as Joyce was finally released from her captor. Surprised, she drew away, her back hitting the wall behind her as her wide eyes flicked from her daughter to Mr. Lyle and the gun that was now pointed in her direction. For the briefest of moments, a rush of adrenaline tore through her body, urging her to do _something_. She knew that if she was her daughter, the Slayer, she would be off in a flash, moving faster than the eye could follow as she hurled punch after kick at anyone that stood in her path, fighting even to the death to do something, just as long as she was fighting for something. But as quickly as the adrenaline rushed through her body, it was gone again as a heavy weariness crept through her limbs.

The truth was, she wasn't her daughter. She wasn't the Slayer. She was simply a weary mother who loved her daughter too much. A mother who could do nothing in face of these odds. A mother who knew her fate so clearly that it was as though her entire life had been leading up to this one moment. Calm, she turned her eyes away from the dark tunnel of the gun and instead focused on her beloved daughter. _I love you_, she mouthed, knowing that her daughter understood as hot tears burned down her pale cheeks.

And Buffy did understand, even through the haze of the drugs she understood. She understood all too well when someone was saying goodbye. She had done it too many times before in her short life not to understand. Not to understand that she was about to lose her mother and there wasn't a thing that she could do about it. For the first time in her life, the Slayer was powerless to stop it.

A second before Lyle pulled the trigger, Buffy swore that she could hear her mother's voice ringing in her ears: _Look away. Baby, please look away._

But Buffy couldn't.

As two muffled thuds echoed in the small room, the slugs tearing through her mother's torso and tossing her back against the wall, Buffy couldn't look away.

As her mother left a trail of red as her lifeless body slid down the wall opposite of her, Buffy couldn't look away.

As Joyce Summers landed in a graceless heap on the wood floor, a bright pool of red forming beneath her unmoving body, Buffy couldn't look away.

To do so, she somehow felt as though everything that had led up to this point - all of the love and memories that had formed Joyce Summers' life would be meaningless. A null void that would somehow drown her in its angry maw. So Buffy couldn't look away.

Nodding curtly, Lyle lowered the gun and then tossed it to the surprised Cleaner, absently dusting his gloves against the neat press of his trousers. "Burn it," he muttered, waving at the body and the house around them, "and give her more - I want her out!" he hissed, his eyes narrowing on the Slayer who's eyes remained locked on her mother's body. Watching idly, he noted that she didn't even flinch, didn't move as Willie jammed a large needle into the girl's arm, emptying its contents into her system. Within seconds, the girl finally succumbed to the drugs, her head lolling forward.

"We have a plane to catch," he said, a smile once more returning to his lips as though nothing had happened - as though he hadn't just destroyed the Slayer's one blood link to this town, to this life... to her life. Turning, he walked calmly from the house and into the quiet night. With satisfaction, he noted that the street was deserted around him as Willie stepped outside, hurrying towards the car with the girl draped over one shoulder. Struggling for a moment with the door, the man dropped his cargo into the backseat of the car as though she were no more than a burden before sliding into the driver's seat. Seconds later two others joined the girl in the backseat, one taking to either side of her as Lyle settled into the front of the car.

Seconds later, the car backed from the drive as the orange ghost of flames began flickering behind smoky glass. As the flames quickly leapt up and caught the large drapes that framed the bay window, the dark car pulled away and sped down the street, disappearing into the dark night.

Alone, the house continued to burn unnoticed, the flames eating through each room of the house until its destructive force could go unnoticed no longer. Yet from the second that Buffy had stepped into her house, unaware of all that the night would bring, help was already too late. It was too late to save her house. Too late to save her mother. And most importantly, too late to save her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 11  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

As the early morning sun dried the evening dew, its bright rays were lost amongst the thick acrid cloud of smoke that still poured from the smoldering ruins of a single house on Revello Drive. Numb, Giles stood on the sidewalk before the house, adrift from the many other spectators that lined the quiet residential street - a haggard man whose dull gray eyes looked upon the scene with wearied despair. Unblinking, he watched as the men and women in bright yellow gear worked through the house, hoses still pouring gallon after gallon upon the blackened mar as others picked through the mess with glinting metal axes. Others, this time dressed in the blue of the city's finest, drew a bright yellow tape along the perimeter, keeping the mobs of people at bay while the camera flashes clicked and snapped, recording the scene in its every horrid detail.

With a muted roar, the single ambulance that had arrived at the scene slowly came to life, people clearing in waves before it as it began down the street, its sirens silent and lights dark - testament to the fact that they had all been too late to save anyone that day. Far too late.

"Buffy! Buffy!"

Torn from his thoughts, Giles watched as Oz and Willow came tearing up the walk, people parting and getting jostled to the side as the willowy redhead raced forward, eyes wide and terrified. "_Buffy!_" she screamed again, her voice breaking as Oz finally caught her arm, swinging her around and pulling her against his chest, holding her tight as Willow's panicked eyes surveyed the scene.

Sensing the unwanted attention that they were drawing, Oz scanned the crowds and locked on Giles' hunched form and quickly drew Willow away, pulling her towards the aging watcher. "Giles," he murmured, undisguised relief coloring his voice as the man finally pulled his eyes away from the ruins, turning towards the two teens.

"Giles, what happened?" Willow murmured as she huddled closer to Oz, her eyes continually turning to look back at the house. "Where's Buffy?" she demanded, her voice catching, afraid of the answer that she would be given.

"I... I don't know," Giles admitted, his voice hitching as he wearily ran a hand through his graying hair. "I.. I heard about the fire on the morning news," he continued, his eyes becoming lost as he absently pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously struggling against some unknown emotion that threatened his steeled resolve.

"But where's Buffy?" Willow demanded, her voice becoming shrill, oblivious to the looks that they were drawing - some curious while others sympathetic. "We saw an ambulance, but there were no lights!" she cried, her thin form beginning to shake in Oz's embrace. "Giles, where's Buffy?"

"I... I'm.. I'm not sure," Giles stuttered, his hand beginning to tremble as he took it away from his brow, his eyes returning once more to the smoking wreck. "They found a body... I.. I think it was Joyce."

As his words sunk in, Willow's shaking intensified, her head whipping back and forth in denial. Pulling away from Oz, Willow swiveled on her heel, her wide eyes returning to the house. "No," she whispered, her voice begging for him to be wrong.

"They're... they're still searching for Buffy," Giles finished, his words soft as his eyes finally locked on Willow's. For some reason, it hadn't been real until he said those words. Until he spoke those words aloud it hadn't been real. It couldn't have been real. Not Buffy. Not his Slayer. At that moment, it was as though the invisible strings that had been holding him aloft all this time were cut as he fell to his knees, his eyes becoming lost as Oz hurried to his side.

Alone, Willow felt her hands fly to her mouth as tears burned her eyes. Shaking her head, she could only look at Giles before she, too, fell to the wet ground. Soon, a high-pitched keening sound echoed from her throat as she wrapped upon herself, rocking back and forth as the tears poured down her cheeks. Joyce was dead... but not Buffy. Anything but Buffy. "Buffy!" she screamed, her face turned towards the deceptively bright, blue sky, her hands clawing at the ground. "_Buffy!_"

* * *

The small room was unearthly silent, dark and bare save for a single bulb that was affixed to the ceiling, sending down a bright cone of light on the steel table and its sole occupant.

"When will she awaken?" Lyle asked from the other side of the mirror that lined the girl's prison. He had been standing in silence, admiring her slim form, clothed in loose, pale blue hospital scrubs and a matching tank - Centre issued. She looked as though she were dead, her tanned skin pale in the cold light and pulled taut where the thick straps held her firmly to its surface.

"Soon," Mr. Raines wheezed, his posture bent as he leaned heavily on his ever-present tank of life-sustaining air - the only thing that kept him on his feet. "The drug dosage was high, but her system seems to be working through it quickly."

"Good. I want her moved to the room before she awakens and the testing to begin as soon as she's coherent," Lyle snapped, his tone brooking no room for argument. Not that he thought he'd receive any. Not from Raines. If anything, the older man should be kissing his feet right now. Bringing the girl before him was probably one of the best gifts that the old man had received in a long while; he had a new specimen to play with. "I want to know everything: how strong she really is, how fast, what her reflexes are like, her healing capabilities, and of course-"

"Her pain threshold," Raines wheezed, knowing instinctively how the man's mind worked. Smiling thinly, he slowly nodded his head as he studied the girl's unconscious form. "And the modifications?" he asked, his finger twitching idly against his hand, ticking against the tank beside him.

"After," Lyle murmured, his eyes locked on the girl in the other room. "I first want to see how good she really is."

* * *

"I just can't believe Joyce is gone.. she's really gone," Willow murmured, her red-rimmed eyes wide as she finally tore her gaze away from her pale hands, turning from Giles to Oz. They had waited on the sidewalk before the ruinous house for hours, hoping and praying for some word. Any word. But the one that had finally come was one that was filled with both hope and fear, for the firefighters had found nothing else. No more bodies and no Buffy. In the hours since, the small trio had relocated to the wooden table in Giles' apartment, a bleak silence stretching over the room that was broken only by Giles' hushed conversation with the hospital morgue.

"I don't understand how she can really be gone," Willow murmured again, her hands beginning to shake as she quickly wrapped her slim arms around her small frame. "What could have happened?" she murmured, her bleary eyes locking on Giles' tired features.

"Demon?" Oz murmured timidly, his hands splayed before him on the scarred wood.

"I've never known a demon to burn down a house after shooting their victim," Giles returned, paling as Willow blanched at his blunt description. Sighing, he offered the girl an apologetic nod as Oz hurried to squeeze her hand. He wasn't handling this well, of that he was certain. But this went beyond anything the Watcher's Council had ever trained him for. Went way beyond anything he could have possibly ever expected. Joyce wasn't only Buffy's mother, but his friend. They had shared things in the past that he hadn't shared with a great many others, including the fierce and protective love that Joyce held for her daughter... for his Slayer. Sighing, Giles quickly lifted a hand to weakly massage his aching head.

"What can we do?" Oz asked, once more trying to bring focus to the group as Giles drew his hand away.

"I'm not sure yet," he replied, his voice more of a tired sigh than anything. "Xander?" he questioned, turning towards the redhead opposite of him.

"I haven't been able to reach him yet," Willow murmured, shaking her head quickly as she bit her lip to the point where she tasted blood. "He.. he should be calling to check in soon."

"Any of the others?"

"I tried calling Cordelia's house, but her parents won't say where she's gone," Willow continued, a frown pulling at her lips. And Angel..."

"Yes," Giles conceded, his own brow wrinkling in a small frown, "simply gone." Sighing once again, Giles tried to force his mind into a plan. Into _something_ that would help - something that would find his Slayer. To determine what had happened last night that had changed all of their lives forever.

"What about..." Willow began, a small look of hope flickering across her face. "What about Wesley?"

"Back in England, I'd imagine. The Council called him back after graduation."

"So I guess were it then," Willow murmured, her eyes begging Oz and Giles to disagree. Sure, they had faced demon after demon and apocalypse after apocalypse together but never alone. Never without Buffy. And in this case, the problem _was_ Buffy. They needed to find her. To find out what happened to make sure that she was even still alive.

"So why not the Council?" Oz broke in, his voice low and steady as he watched Giles shift under his gaze, the older man looking at anything but Ozs questioning eyes.

Seeing this, Willow slowly turned the idea over in her mind. The Council was old, stuffy, and Buffy had made it quite clear months ago that she wanted nothing to do with them ever again. Not after what they had tried to do to her. She was no longer the Councils Slayer in Buffys eyes. Then again, perhaps this would fall under the category of extenuating circumstances. "Oz is right," she murmured, nodding her head slowly as she turned to Giles, her eyes pleading with him to understand. "Giles, we have nothing. Nothing. And Buffy is their Slayer, whether Buffy likes that or not. They have to help."

"We" Oz added, faltering as he obviously debated on whether or not to continue. "We dont even know if another Slayer has been called," he finally said, squeezing Willows hand as the girl began to tremble once again at his bleak words.

"I dont believe that another one will be called. Not unless Faith" Giles murmured, his voice trailing off as stood awkwardly from the table, the grating of his chair against the floor a harsh sound in the bleak silence of the room. Turning, he shuffled to the counter that divided his living room from the kitchen, desperately trying to hide the waves of despair that choked him in thick waves. All talk of the Council only served to remind him of his betrayal to Buffy to the girl, that if he was really honest with himself, had stopped being his Slayer long ago, and was replaced with an image of someone far more dear to his heart. "I I suppose that we do not have a choice," he finally murmured, turning once more to take in the two teens. "I just pray that theyre willing to help."


	12. Chapter 12

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 12  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

"After all, there's a reason they say that love is a two-edged sword...  
because love is sharp, it pierces, and love is a needle that sews shut  
the holes in our hearts, that mends our souls, but it can also cut,  
cut deep, wound, kill." Dean Koontz, Seize the Night

Groaning, Buffy slowly blinked away the haze that clouded her vision, instantly squeezing them shut against the searing light. "Oh God," she rasped, wincing as aching muscles screamed in protest to her small movements, licking her cracked lips. Sighing, she stilled once more, trying to gather her muddled thoughts.

She couldn't remember why she was feeling as she did, but one fact became apparent. She definitely _wasn't_ at home, cuddled in her nice, soft bed. Quickly she set about taking stock of herself. Her cheek was pressed against a hard, gritty surface a floor, of some kind. Judging by the cold that radiated from the surface, it wasn't any place she would normally fall asleep on. Sighing, she willed that thought away and instead focused her senses, stretching them to their limits without moving a muscle - waiting for anything. The air was cool and felt damp - like she was someplace far below ground. Yet the air tasted false. Not fresh at all. More circulated, than anything else - like on an airplane. Unfortunately, no matter how far she stretched her senses, that was all she could deduce, for the room was as silent as a tomb.

Unable to prevent a grimace at the imagery that those words brought, Buffy braced herself and slowly blinked open her eyes, praying that she wouldn't indeed find herself in some tomb or another. As tears streamed down her face from the light, Buffy stubbornly refused to give in, and eventually her sight cleared as her pupils adapted to the dim lighting.

Slowly, Buffy lifted her head, ignoring her protesting muscles as she pushed herself up and then back, so that she was leaning against the wall that she had been lying beside. "What the" she trailed off, her hazel eyes taking in the dank room she found herself in.

The rectangular-shaped room was relatively small with damp concrete for walls, floors, and a ceiling. The only change in the monotony was a door set into the wall opposite her, a bare bulb hanging from a cord above, a small drain set in the floor, a large air vent set into the top of the wall to her left, and a camera whose lens seemed to be staring right into her very soul. Shivering in the dank air, Buffy wrapped her bare arms around herself, the movement drawing her eyes away from the camera's dark lens and focusing them on herself. Confused, she picked at the unfamiliar tank she was wearing, the soft blue cotton material clinging to her slim form while the pants fit loosely around her slender legs, her feet bare.

But that couldn't be right. She had vague memories of her red halter and the Bronze? Yes, she was at the Bronze with Oz and Willow because the Dingoes were playing. But how did that bring her to here? Biting her lip, Buffy slowly pushed herself away from the wall, dismayed at the weakness that hampered her every awkward step. She hadn't felt this weak since her birthday when the Council? Eyes widening slightly, Buffy hurried to the door, her hand pausing only as she dimly realized that there was no handle. There was nothing.

Was this the Council's doing? Had they captured her somehow but why? That didn't make any sense, Buffy realized as she slowly backed away, her hair hanging limp around her shoulders as her eyes swept her enclosure once again. She hadn't heard from the Watcher's Council since they fired Giles and she effectively told them to get out of her life. Besides, this didn't seem the Council's style.

Lifting a hand weakly to her forehead, Buffy massaged the skin as her eyes swept over the small room. "Think," she muttered, the sound of her voice in the silent room startling her as she instinctively drew against the wall - an action that caused a surge of anger to sweep through her. She was the Slayer, damnit. She could handle this. She could solve this.

Crossing the distance to the door in a few small steps, Buffy slapped the palm of her hand against the smooth surface, the sound reverberating in the small room. But whatever words she was about to utter, whatever screams or demands that were about to leave her lips, were forgotten as she slowly pulled away from the door.

Bronze. She was at the Bronze and then she left because because she had to see Giles! She wasn't going to patrol that night, she remembered, her forehead wrinkling as she unconsciously wrapped her thin arms around her once again - an ineffective barrier against the cold of the room. And after Giles she went home, but there was there was a strange car in the driveway.

"Wonder Boy," Buffy murmured, her eyes widening slightly as she remembered the man's cocky grin even as she pinned him against their living room mantle. But then everything turned fuzzy. She remembered the prick of the needle in her neck, and the flash of weakness, and then and then she remembered her mom getting dragged into the room.

And suddenly, Buffy didnt want to remember anymore.

Turning, she jumped back at the door, her eyes flashing as she beat her hands against it, the sound echoing in the room. "Let me out!" Buffy screamed, her voice tearing out of her throat as she landed punch after kick at the unyielding door, ignoring the pain that flashed from her bruised flesh. But even as the noise drowned her words, the memories continued unbidden. Her fighting the men and freeing her mother, and then Lyle pumping her so full of drugs that she could barely move.

Gasping, Buffy shook her head curtly and hurried from the door, nearly running to the single camera that looked into her small domain. Hazel eyes glaring up into its dark lens, she was about to scream until someone came... when she remembered.

"No," Buffy whispered, her eyes squeezing shut as she swung away from the camera and stumbled against the wall.

Unbidden, she watched in her minds eye as her mother was torn away from her and shoved against the wall of their living room.

"Oh God, no," Buffy whispered, her voice catching as hot tears flooded her eyes.

Unable to do anything, she watched as Mr. Lyle lifted his gun and pointed it at her mother's chest.

Weakly, Buffy felt herself slowly slide down the wall, sharp bits of concrete scratching her smooth skin and drawing blood as she settled heavily on the floor, pulling her knees up against her chest.

_"Look away. Baby, please look away,"_ she heard, her mother's voice echoing in her ear.

"Noooooo," Buffy moaned, closing in on herself as her mother's finals moments played out before her mind's eye.

Even before the muffled thwump of the two shots reached Buffy's ears, she remembered watching in dumb horror as two bright red circles appeared on her mother's shirt - one appearing directly over her heart. In slow motion, she watched as her mother was thrown back by the force of the bullets, her back colliding with the living room wall as she slid to a bloody heap on the wood floor.

In that instant of cognate recognition of what she had lost, Buffy felt a vise squeeze around her heart as a physical pain filled her unlike anything she had ever experienced before. As a high pitched keening noise echoed in the small room, Buffy began to shake as her body went into shock.

Her mind was numb.

Her body was numb.

And above all else, her heart was numb as Buffy's body shut down, curling into herself as she began to rock back and forth, her body shaking so hard that it looked as though she were convulsing on the floor.

After years of battle and emotional turmoil, the Master, Angelus, the Mayor everyone had failed to do what one man - what one human had managed to do in a few short seconds.

Lyle had broken the Slayer.

Feeling his lips curl into a small, cruel smile, Mr. Lyle reveled in the girl's pain as he watched the monitor before him, his legs crossed casually at the ankle.

"Now?" Willie asked from beside him, his eyes locked on the screen that showed the Slayer's silent pain.

"No let's let her stew a little bit longer," Lyle murmured, waving the man away, his eyes never once leaving the small screen. "Besides, it's been awhile since I've seen a good show. Too long and it's only going to get better from here."


	13. Chapter 13

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 13  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

Wincing, Jarod slowly rotated his shoulders, willing away the aches and pains that seemed to radiate from every single joint in his body. Then again, the pain was worth the outcome of his latest pretend. After some serious studying on what it took to be a risk-taker, Jarod had gotten himself involved in a group of thrill-seekers that all followed their ringleader, Zed. But after a little bit of time in the group, and Zed being hung off a bridge by a frayed bungee cord, Jarod had been able to obtain a videotaped confession of the man's tampering with a friend's bungee cord - resulting in the younger man's recently-ended coma. Just another day's work in the life of a Pretender.

But even that thought wasn't enough to distract Jarod for long. Sighing, he slowly shifted back in the stiff motel chair that he rested in, his weary eyes skimming the computer's information once again. Something was wrong. Really wrong. Even though he had been a victim of the Centre's cruelty for almost his entire life, a part of him still felt responsible for the nameless corporation's actions. After experiencing their cruelty firsthand, he found that he just couldn't sit back and watch it continue to happen.

Sighing, Jarod slowly lifted his hands and ran them through his wild brown hair, sending it spiked in all directions. He had been away from the action for too long with this last simulation, and now he couldn't help but return to his computer with a deep sense of unease. This time, he understood his unease all too well. It was Lyle.

For months now the pieces had been falling into place, outlining Lyle's secret life and the activities that no one at the Centre even knew about. But too soon, he had found that there was very little that he could do from his secret position save watch and wait. So he had then sent Miss Parker, Sydney, and Broots off to be his eyes and ears for him - his clues sending them right into the lion's den. And now, he needed only to confirm his worst suspicions.

Steeling himself, Jarod quickly popped a small yellow Pez into his mouth, allowing the sugary tablet to dissolve on his tongue before reaching for the phone. In seconds the call had been routed, and then rerouted through numerous locations before the other end finally began to ring. "What?" came the snapped reply that he had been waiting for.

"Miss Parker," he replied, a small smile lifting his lips despite the nature of his call.

"Jarod," came the solemn reply. Yet it was her tone, more than anything else, that alerted him that his fears were about to be confirmed. After all, this was usually the point in their conversation where Miss Parker would bemoan the fates for his most recent tricks. But not tonight.

"What did you find?" he asked, his voice turning somber as his eyes returned to the laptop's glowing monitor.

"A room," her voice whispered back, soft and for a brief second, almost vulnerable. But then that illusion was shattered as a low growl echoed through the connection, her anger obviously returning full force. "He has a room hidden behind a secret door in his closet."

"A room?" Jarod echoed, his brow tightening in confusion. He had been expecting something, but not quite this.

"Inside he's built a shed-"

"A recreation of the shed that his adopted father used to lock him in," Jarod quickly surmised, his mind beginning to enter the scary place of Lyle's psychosis, "before he killed off that identity."

"If you knew what we were going to find, why did you send us there?" Miss Parker quickly snapped back, her anger obviously finding direction on him.

"Because I didn't... not for certain," Jarod admitted, absently reaching for another Pez. "Did you find evidence-"

"Nothing concrete," Miss Parker quickly interrupted, her voice faltering as a long silence stretched over the line. "But we think... we think he's been using the shed to torture and murder young women," she quickly hurried on, as though it pained her to speak it aloud. Pained and disgusted her. After all, Mr. Lyle wasn't just a part of her family. He was her twin.

Nodding slowly, Jarod realized that his mentor and nemesis both had come to the same conclusion that he had been fearing for awhile now. "Well, I can say for certain that he's capable of it," Jarod murmured, unable to stop himself as visions of his own torture came to mind - all at Lyle's ever capable hands. Then, shaking his head, Jarod quickly sat forward in his rickety chair. This wasn't about him. Not anymore. "Miss Parker, you have to watch him carefully. You have to stop this."

"I know," she sighed, her voice so weary that Jarod felt a pang of sympathy for dropping this on her lap. Then again, it _was_ her twin, as she evidently realized by the renewed wrath that entered her voice. "He's been distracted for awhile now - something obviously going on. I just had no idea that it could be something like this."

"We have to do something about Lyle," Jarod continued, undaunted by her biting anger.

"_I_ will do something about Lyle. This won't happen again," she murmured, as Jarod's eyes once more returned to his computer screen, the newspaper article outlining the gruesome murder of May Lin, a young Asian waitress, glaring at him.

"See that it doesn't... just see that it doesn't," he repeated quietly before slowly returning the phone to its cradle. For now, Jarod had done all that he could. With Miss Parker and the others watching Lyle from their end... well, it was a hope, anyway.

* * *

With narrowed eyes, Miss Parker slowly returned the phone to its cradle, her long fingers tapping absently against the polished wood of her desk - the only sound in her large office. If she was truly honest with herself, Miss Parker had been expecting... no, anticipating Jarod's call ever since they had made their discovery. Even now, it was too easy for her to visualize the secret room that they had found. The room that had no doubt been the last thing that many innocent young women saw before they met a cruel and undeserved end. And all at the hands of her brother.

_"Well, I can say for certain that he's capable of it."_

Sighing, Miss Parker knew instinctually of what Jarod was referring to. After rescuing his clone, Genesis, Jarod forsake his chance of escape and freedom with the boy and his father, Major Charles, to help her. She had been shot while trying to protect her father, and she knew that had it not been for Jarod, she would be dead now. He couldn't leave her when she was in pain... she, the person who had devoted the last four years of her life in a relentless hunt for his capture. It was like a game for them. But in that instant, he had given up the chance to be reunited with his family to help her. Something that she would never forget... nor allow to change her mission.

Wearily lifting a hand to her forehead, Miss Parker began massaging away the ever-present headache that her job seemed to bring. That her life seemed to bring. It had been a long recovery - a recovery that had left her out of the action in the weeks that followed Jarod's capture and return to the Centre. But she had heard rumor of what had occurred in her absence. Sydney had been barred from seeing his ward, and instead, Jarod had been subjected to weeks of needless cruelty by her brother's hands. Even now the thought of the torture disgusted her. Lyle had stated that he was teaching Jarod a lesson so that he wouldn't think to try and escape again. Instead, the very cruelty and pain had been what prompted the Pretender's speedy exit. Not that she could honestly blame him.

And now, her brother's cruelty seemed to need a new outlet. And for some reason, that perverse outlet was taking place in the form of young and innocent Asian women. Girls that had nothing to do with the Centre's dubious dealings and underhanded projects. Just innocent women who were brutally taken from their families for a few hours of tortured enjoyment at the four-fingered hand of her brother. Of her twin.

Shifting, Miss Parker quickly reached forward a jabbed a finger to a button on her phone's console. "Broots," she barked, her voice hard and firm, her eyes glaring daggers into the inanimate object.

From the speaker phone came the sounds of a glass breaking and then the scurried and shuffled footsteps of the nerdy computer technician. His panicked movements brought a small smile to her painted lips. "Y.. yes Miss Parker?" the man's breathy voice echoed through the phone, filling her large office with his nervous words.

"In my office, now."

"Y.. yes Miss Parker," he repeated before the connection quickly ended, casting the room into a thick silence once again.

With a few minutes to spare as the man bolted from his office and raced the levels to hers, Miss Parker slowly turned away, leaning back in the soft leather of her chair as her eyes traced the dark colors of the painting that hung behind her. Idly, she reached down and lifted the small glass tumbler to her lips, the sound of shifting ice tinkling in the room as the fiery liquid burned a trail down to her stomach.

It disgusted her to think that Mr. Lyle could somehow be the product of her mother and father. Could somehow be a part of her. Her mother, before her death, had been the epitome of goodness and kindness - her actions endangering herself and ultimately costing her her life... and all in order to save the children of the Centre from the destiny that her own husband had sentenced them to. All to save herself and another particular child... the one that she now hunted so to return him to his cage. And her father, despite his obvious... quirks, was still the only family that she had left. She would do anything to help her father, as she had proven time and time again. But now, with him in hiding with Bridgette from the Centre... well all of the black and white issues were being bled with shades of gray. Before it had always been a simple matter of finding Jarod and returning the Centre's prized Pretender to his cage. Bringing the lab rat back to the lab. And then she would have been free. That had been the deal that she had laid down with her father. But now... now other issues began to cloud the subject.

First had been Tommy's murder on the very morning before she was to declare her decision to leave the Centre for good. To follow him away from this shadowed life and begin again. Forever to cut herself from this damned building. His murder had very nearly torn her apart, for it always seemed that whatever goodness she managed to find in life, it was quickly taken away from her. Her mother's murder, being sent to boarding school as a young girl and having to leave behind the only friend that she had ever known, Tommy's death... and then the Centre itself began to reek of projects that were too horrible - too unmentionable even to her. On a matter of principle she refused to dwell on Jarod's own past and the possible moral questions that his kidnapping and life of servitude in the Centre begged to rise. But when she had seen the ghost of her past... the clone that had perfectly resembled her childhood friend... well, she could no longer just sit back and watch the Centre's actions through rose-colored glasses. And now with Lyle...

"Miss Parker?"

Startled from her thoughts, Miss Parker felt the cold liquid slosh from her glass and splatter her hand as she quickly turned back to her desk. "Broots," she muttered, sending the man an annoyed gaze as she hastily wiped the fluid from her skin, "I told you to knock before entering my office!"

"B.. but I did," Broots quickly stuttered, awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot by the door, his hand nervously running through his thinning hair. "Three times. There was no answer so I thought-"

"Your first mistake," Miss Parker retorted, a malicious smile pulling at her lips as she gracefully stood from the chair and advanced on the trembling man. "I need a favor."

Instantly panic began to cloud the man's eyes as he watched Miss Parker's slow advance. When she said favor, Broots knew that she really meant that she had a project for him of a more personal matter. Usually one that involved some sort of treachery to the company he worked, great personal risk, and even more at the hands of Miss Parker should he fail. "B.. but Jarod..."

"My task won't take you too far from your hunt for Jarod," Miss Parker interrupted, her smile thin as she crossed her arms across her chest, her heels allowing her to stare down onto his balding plate. "I want you to do some checking on my beloved brother," she murmured, the quick shift in his eyes assuring her that he, too, would never forget their discovery of Lyle's secret room. "I want to know what's been keeping him so preoccupied these past few months."

Sighing, Broots knew that there was no reason to bother attempting an argument. And besides, after knowing what he did... well, this was one cause that he felt a little better about risking his neck for. Nodding curtly, Broots turned and hurried towards the door, his hand freezing on the handle as her words stilled him once more.

"And Broots, I don't want Sydney to know about this. Not yet."

Timidly nodding his head, Broots waited a brief second to see if there was more before quickly making his escape, leaving Miss Parker to her solitude.


	14. Chapter 14

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 14  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

Seconds, minutes, hours, days all ceased to hold meaning for Buffy Summers as she sat in the small room, cloaked in silence and grief. She was lost to everything and looked more the part of a small child than the Slayer, curled into a small ball on the floor, her eyes open and unseeing. In the moment of understanding of what had happened, with no one there to help her through the pain, she shut in on herself, locking herself in a place where no one could hurt her.

Where her mother still lived.

Aware of this, Lyle had watched her unchanging condition for days with an air of intense curiosity. No matter the time of day or night, he found himself drawn to the computer screen in his office - his fingers unwittingly clicking across the keys of his keyboard until the vision of her filled his screen. He knew that it was growing into a secret obsession - but he found himself striving to care.

"Mr. Lyle, Mr. Raines would like a word with you."

Sighing, Lyle forced his attention away from the screen and faced Willie with an air of impatience. "He knows where to find me."

"I do," Rained concurred, his voice a raspy statement, startling the younger man as he stepped into the room. Dark, beady eyes flickered from the picture on Lyle's monitor before locking on the man's impatient gaze. "Don't you think it's time to begin? We've pushed back our date long enough."

Sighing, Lyle slowly reclined in his plush leather chair, absently tapping a slim finger against his chin as he considered the man's words. Yet inevitably, his eyes were drawn once more back to the still figure.

"If we continue much longer," Raines continued in between greedy lungfuls of oxygenated air, "then the subject will die of starvation and dehydration before we even have a chance to begin," he stated coldly, nodding towards the screen. "She needs to be broken out of this catatonia for any of the tests or modifications to be effective. After recent events, you seem best suited for that task."

Smiling at Raines' choice of words, Lyle found himself nodding in agreement. Seeing as how he was the reason for the state that the girl was in, he did seem the most able to get her back out of it. Besides, after his 'sessions' with Jarod, Lyle doubted that anyone would question his effectiveness at 'reaching' a subject. Nodding slowly, Lyle allowed his eyes to jump once more to the girl before quickly standing, smoothing away invisible creases with one hand as he flicked off the monitor with a quick keystroke with the other. "Well then, what are we waiting for?" he asked, looking past Raines and meeting the cold eyes of Raines' faithful cleaner. "Willie, if you'd be so good to come with me, we'll be able to solve this quick enough."

Several minutes and floors later found the trio far beneath the main floor of the Centre, on one of the infamous sublevels that had seen so much horror that it was nearly inscribed in the very walls. Humming quietly to himself, Lyle strutted down the dimly lit hall, nodding at the Sweepers that guarded the Slayer's door. "Willie?" he asked, hazarding a glance at his companion, ensuring that he carried the necessary tools. Seeing his nod of affirmation, Lyle motioned for the door to be opened and then stepped into the small room.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. It was horrible. Grimacing, Lyle deftly lifted a starched handkerchief to his nose, blocking the worst of the stench. Eyes narrowed, he noted that their presence didn't even register with the girl - oblivious to the world around her, eyes unmoving and unseeing. _Well, certainly one way to fix that_, he thought bemusedly to himself.

Clearing his throat, Lyle spared a glance to ensure that Willie was prepared, before returning his attention once more to the Slayer. By now he knew that all of the drugs had cleared her system, leaving him with a catatonic and full-strength Slayer - ensuring certain precautions.

"Buffy Summers," he called out, his voice ringing in the small room and then trailing into a thick silence. Sighing, he watched as the girl didn't even twitch at the sound of his voice. He didn't really think that it was going to be that easy. "Now," he murmured, waving his hand absently to the man beside him.

Nodding, Willie braced himself, his legs spread shoulder length apart for ultimate stability, and pulled back a lever on the long hose that he held. Instantly a wave of freezing water shot through the nozzle and slammed into the girl with the force of a freight train. Grimacing slightly, he watched as her small body was tossed back ruthlessly against the unforgiving cement wall, pinned there by the roaring water.

After a few seconds, Lyle indicated for the water to be cut off, watching as the girl's body was finally released from the torrent of water and dropped bonelessly to the ground. As the roaring of the water was replaced by the gurgling of the drain as it accepted the remnants of the flood, Lyle's eyes traced over the Slayer's slight form. "Buffy Summers," he repeated, his voice echoing once more. This time he was gratified to see her form twitch slightly at the sound. Headway.

Turning, he was about to issue the command once again when he sensed, more than saw, movement from the corner of his eye. Luckily, Willie had seen the same movement and let loose a volley of freezing water seconds before the girl's clawed hands would have wrapped around Lyle's neck. Instead, the girl was caught up in the water and tossed ruthlessly back, her body colliding so hard against the cement wall that even Lyle cringed.

"Playing possum," he murmured, a sly smile lifting his lips as he waved for the water to stop. But the second the valve was pushed back, the Slayer was on her feet and charging them once again, her wild eyes locked on Lyle's.

Sighing, Lyle watched as Willie continued to play this game of sorts, continually pushing the girl back until, after what seemed like forever, the girl finally learned her lesson. As the last bit of water cut off once again, the girl remained back against the far wall. Slowly she climbed to her feet, her clothing clinging to her slim form, blonde hair wet and matted against her skull, and tanned skin looking unnaturally pale beneath the single bulb light. Feeling his smile broaden, Lyle nodded once, his eyes skimming up her body, shaking fiercely from the cold, trailing over her lips and noting their bluish hue, and locking on green eyes that were dull and glassy.

"Buffy Summers," he repeated, his smile triumphant. But whatever answer he was expecting never came. Instead, she lifted her chin slightly, her eyes cold as she stood there, skin glistening under the weak light. "Well," he continued, undaunted, "where's your biting wit and scathing sarcasm now?" he asked, disappointed as his taunts went unanswered. Sighing, he shook his head curtly. "It doesn't matter," he said, as though consoling a small child over breaking a new toy. "I'm sure it will return to you in time." Despite her attitude, he wasn't going to allow her to ruin his moment.

"I wanted to be the first to welcome you to the Centre - your new home," he added, gratified to see her eyes flicker slightly at his statement. "I'm sure that Jarod must have told you about it - all lies, of course," he soothed, almost making himself ill with how sickeningly sweet he knew his smile to be. Turning, he was about to ensure that Raines was ready when two small words, uttered so quietly that he wasn't sure if he heard correctly, stopped him cold.

"You'll pay."

Turning, Lyle felt his eyes narrow as he watched the girl, taken back by the changes in her appearance. Oh, it wasn't as though anything drastic had happened. She was still soaked to the bone, her hair a tangled mess and her skin a bluish hue. But she no longer looked the part of defeat that he had been hoping for. Instead, she stood tall, her limbs no longer shaking as her eyes bored into his own - eyes that now contained a fiery spark of something. Maybe determination. Perhaps fury. Either case, it wasn't something that he had anticipated. "Pardon?"

"I said, you'll pay," Buffy repeated, her voice so soft that he had to strain to hear her. "For my mother," she elaborated, her body rigid with tension.

"And how-"

"Slayers are forbidden to kill humans," she continued, as though he hadn't even attempted to reply. And then a slow smile lifted her lips - a smile that chilled him. "But in your case, I'm willing to make an exception."

Forcing a slow chuckle, Lyle slowly shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. "Apparently I didn't make myself clear enough," he murmured, his eyes hardening and all boyish charm leaving his features as though it had all been a mask. "You now belong to the Centre. You belong to me. You are no more than property. Displease me, and I'll show to you that your mother isn't the only one that I can take away from you."

And from the way that Buffy's confident smile slowly slipped and then faltered altogether, the barest hints of fear beginning to show in her green orbs, Lyle knew that the reports had been correct. The way to frighten the Slayer - to control her - wasn't through pain and the threat of death. No, she faced that on a nightly basis. It held no real fear for the girl for she knew that she was painfully mortal and that her time would come, sooner rather than later. Instead, it seemed that the one thing that could possibly threaten her was the fate of her friends and family - the one thing that she treasured above all else on Earth - often taking the greatest of risks for them, time and time again.

"What were their names again?" he murmured, slowly tapping one finger against his jaw. "Oh yes. Willow Rosenberg and Alexander Harris, correct? Yes, I believe that was their names your 'Scooby' gang, as my sources revealed. And the man a Rupert Giles, if I'm not mistaken. British fellow, glasses, former librarian lives alone," he murmured, his smile growing as the girl began to quake once again, whether from fear or anger, he wasn't sure. Nor did he care. "Now do we understand each other, Miss Summers?" he asked, a thin eyebrow arching slightly at the girl. When he received no response, he knew that he had his answer - and her cooperation, for at least the time being.

Turning on his heel, he quickly left the small room, Willie following slowly behind him, his eyes never leaving the girl. Then, as though he had forgotten something, Lyle paused in the open doorway. "From here on in, you will simply be known as 'Slayer' if you survive," he added, as though an afterthought as he quickly left the room.

Surprised, Buffy stared at the open doorway, pondering his last words as the man's threat against her friends hung in the air and then froze as a new form filled the doorway. Now she understood all to well why her survival was a matter of question. "You have _got_ to be kidding me," she murmured, her eyes growing wider as the door slammed shut behind it.

But the answering shriek of the animal quickly put that to rest. In the end, Buffy barely had time to wonder where in the hell Lyle had managed to find the enormous and enraged tiger before the fight for her life began.

* * *

Humming softly, Lyle barely had a chance to settle into the soft leather of his chair and flick on his monitor when a wheezing voice interrupted the show.

"You know that won't control her for long."

Annoyed, Lyle glanced at Raines briefly before quickly turning back to the monitor, unable to restrain a small smile as one of the tiger's paws ripped through the girl's calf, blood spraying the concrete walls. Sighing, he wished idly for the luxury of color to fully appreciate the gore, before his eyes snapped back to his visitor. "What won't?"

"Threatening her friends," Raines wheezed, his beady eyes following the scene on Lyle's monitor. "Soon she'll begin to perceive death as a welcome option rather than doing as you wish."

"Which is why I invited you along on this little project," Lyle sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically as he hazarded a brief smile for the cold man. A smile that never reached his eyes. "By the time she reaches that point well, it'll be a moot point, won't it? After all, I thought this was your specialty-"

"Not quite," Raines interrupted, his frown deepening. "Were I in charge I-"

"But you're not," Lyle interrupted, his voice cold as his eyes finally locked on the withered man that stood before him. "In my father's absence the Triumvirate has placed me in charge. Therefore, you'll do as I ask, and only as I ask. The Slayer is my project and your sole participation is in regards to what we've already discussed. Is that understood?"

As Raines matched Lyle's stare, a small tic appeared in his cheek, obviously straining to hold back his real response to Lyle's orders. Instead, Mr. Raines slowly turned away, leaning heavily on his wheeled oxygen tanks as he shuffled from the room.

"Well don't be upset!" Lyle called out, unable to resist. "You'll get your chance to play soon enough," he added, his eyes returning to the black and white monitor. In seconds, he was once more entranced in the Slayer's fight for her life. "Soon enough"


	15. Chapter 15

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 15  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

Wincing as Willow adjusted the homemade sling around his shoulder, Xander raised his weary eyes as the sound of the phone being slammed onto its receiver echoed in the small apartment. Sighing, he gently pushed his friend away as he watched Giles join them in the living room, the man running a tired hand through his thinning hair. "What did they say?" he asked, knowing too soon the answer that he would receive.

"The same," Giles sighed in response, his eyes meeting those of the younger man, taking in the dark rings that lined all of their eyes. "They continue to refuse to send aid," he muttered, shaking his head briefly as he took in the others in the room.

The Scoobies, as they fondly referred to themselves, looked as ragged and beaten down as they felt. It had been two months since Joyce had been killed and Buffy had disappeared: two months of fighting the Hellmouth's evil and trying to cover for its lack of a Slayer. But one mediocre witch, a werewolf, a teenager, and an old watcher had nothing on the forces of evil. Not really. Word had spread too quickly that the Slayer was gone and soon the town found itself overrun with evil that was just itching to have a go at the infamous Hellmouth. He had overheard the others talking once - commenting on how this was worse than ever before. The death count was doubling and the nights were no longer safe to venture into - not even for them.

Shaking his head, Giles took in their appearance, biting back a sigh of frustration. These children these children didn't deserve the life that fate had thrown at them. They weren't meant to be out night after night, attempting to keep the evil forces at bay. That was the Slayer's job. But in her absence, someone had to make a go of it. Yet their side was beginning to show the toll of that effort. The bruising on Xander's face was becoming hard to distinguish from his normal skin tone - he was finding it hard to remind himself that the teen's skin had at one point been any other color than dark, mottled purple. The old bruises didn't even have time to heal and fade away before new ones took their place. Currently the lanky teen was sporting a dislocated shoulder, a nasty gash that marred his forehead, and a few broken ribs - injuries that he refused to keep him from joining them on their nightly patrols. Oz and Willow sported similar injuries, yet with the same resolve, but if Giles was truly honest with himself they had been lucky. Very, very lucky that none of them had been killed.

"What is their _deal?_" Xander muttered, his eyes flashing under the dim lighting as he tried to settle himself comfortably on Giles's worn couch. "Don't they understand the meaning of Hellmouth lacking a Slayer?"

"Well, yes, yes, I'm sure they do," Giles stuttered, ignoring his own body's screams of aches and pains. "But they're just too large. The organization can't move this fast can't make a decision this quickly. They're still in deliberations over what to do."

"Here's a genius idea," Xander cut in, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "why don't they get their tweed covered bottoms out here and help us out! We're dying out here!"

"Xander," Willow admonished, lighting kicking her friend's knee as she stepped over his long legs. But everyone could see that the action was more out of reflex than anything else. Sighing, the redhead settled herself beside her best friend, supporting her sprained wrist gingerly against her. "You know that-"

"Dont," Xander interrupted, surprising her as he angrily cut her off. "Don't defend them, Willow. Not now," he added, his dark eyes avoiding everyone's gaze. "Their Slayer disappears and this is the best" he trailed off, a thick silence falling over the group.

"We're going to find her," Oz supplied, his words more to fill the void than to act as a source of reassurance. To be honest, they were all beyond the point of such simple platitudes. Far beyond them. How could anything ever be alright again? Without Buffy? And how were they supposed to find Buffy when they didn't even have time to really look for her. The group was so busy trying to save the world, prevent apocalypses, and prevent the citizens of Sunnydale from dying needless deaths to do much else, no matter how important the task.

Wearily, Xander lifted his eyes and met the drummer's steely gaze. "Maybe we could... if only we had time to do anything else but fight," he countered, as though he had read Oz's mind, his voice now beginning to edge with a hopeless sort of desperation that they were all beginning to feel.

Closing his eyes against the sight, Giles slowly settled himself into an old armchair, the wood creaking around his tall frame. The sight of Buffy's friends, so tired and defeated so hurt. It was almost too much to bear. And yet it wasn't enough, as his thoughts inevitably returned to his Slayer. The hopes and fears that surrounded her very name flooded his weary mind as Giles focused on one sole thought. "Oh God, Buffy, where are you?"

* * *

As the kicks and punches rained down upon her small form, Buffy refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her pain of hearing her screams of agony. Instead, Buffy curled into a tighter ball, doing her best to shield her face from the blows.

It was another day at the Centre, and it seemed that this one would be another of what she soon learned to be Lyle's favorite game: the Beat Buffy Senseless game. And to be honest, he was quite good at it. First would come the water that would pound into her body, slamming her back against the wall as its icy anger stole the very breath from her body. Then, before she could fully recover her senses the goons, or sweepers as they liked to call themselves, would be upon her.

It wasn't as though Buffy ever went down without a fight. No, some days she would lie awake all night, just so she could be ready for her morning wake up call, prepared for the rush of the men. But in the end, no matter how many broken noses and dislocated limbs she gave, there always seemed to be too many. Somehow someone would always break through and then the needle would be jammed home, the drugs burning through her veins. And then, they would step back and merely smile as Buffy felt her strength leaving her leaving her defenseless against their brutality.

Yet the men never dug right in and got to the torture. Instead, they always stood back and waited, ensuring that the drug was fully into her system before Lyle finally make his appearance. For some reason, he always needed to be the first to deliver her almost-daily punishment. The sole surprise would be in what manner he would deliver his greeting. Sometimes it would be a kick to the ribs, or a punch against her jaw. One time he got creative and used a walking stick against the small of her back. Regardless of the manner, he was always the first to begin the torture. When he tired of the game, it was then time for the others to take over for the winded man, making sure that there wasn't a spot on Buffy's small frame that didn't receive some sort of punishment.

One time she had made the mistake of talking back to him during his morning beating. As she had laid bruised, bloody, and beaten on the floor at his feet, she had weakly lifted her pounding head and spit a mouthful of foamy blood at his highly polished shoes. "Bastard," she had whispered, her voice hoarse and airy. "Big man," she had continued, her breath coming in wheezing gasps from her obviously broken ribs. "Try me without drugs we'll see who's.. big man."

Another of his kicks had sent her flying back against the wall. But that wasn't enough to shut her mouth. Oh no, Giles had always warned her that her mouth would one day land her in trouble she had never imagined how right he was. Before she could stop herself, a high, almost maniacal-sounding laugh escaped her lips, her eyes sparking with heat as she looked down her nose at him at least as much as she could from her unglorified position on the floor. "What can't find your own girl to beat on?" she mocked, her eyes narrowing into slits.

"You should just be thankful that I prefer my women a touch more exotic than you," Lyle finally replied, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Although, if it would help you to learn your position" he trailed off, his meaning clear as his eyes slowly trailed over Buffy's every bruised curve.

But that comment had only served to infuriate her more as she had allowed a look of understanding to cross her bloodied features. "Ah Jarod still giving you the runaround."

And then, it was as though Buffy had finally found his button but not in a very good way. Soon she had found heavy manacles closed painfully around her wrists, thick chains pulling her from the floor until her feet barely grazed the speckled concrete. Wincing as the metal bit into her skin, Buffy had stared defiantly at Lyle through a trickle of blood, idly wondering what new mode of torture she had pushed him to. But she had found out soon enough.

"Jarod was particularly fond of this," he continued, his eyes wide and innocent as a new wave of freezing water crashed over her skin, soaking her to the bone in seconds.

Confused, Buffy had blinked away the water, weakly shaking heavy tendrils of hair from her vision as Lyle slowly stepped away. And then, as he returned to her side, Buffy understood his new form of torture too well. This time Buffy had been unable to hold back her screams of agony as Lyle had touched the prongs to her skin, wave after unbelievable wave of electricity tearing through her body from the small car battery at his side.

It was that day that Buffy had finally learned the valuable lesson of keeping her thoughts to herself.

Grunting, Buffy's thoughts quickly scattered as another boot found a way through her arms and connected solidly with her midsection. Biting her lip so hard that her teeth tore through the delicate skin, she was barely able to restrain her hiss of pain as the wet sound of cracking bones echoed in the small room. Vision swam at the corners of her teared eyes, but Buffy knew that such an escape would be too lucky for her. Despite the drugs, her Slayer-enhanced body was able to take far more of a beating before she was allowed such a luxury as unconsciousness such an escape from the pain. And after only a few days, her tormentors had quickly learned just how far they could push her before she was given that escape.

Gasping, Buffy forced herself to breathe around the pain that encircled her chest like a ring of fire, trying to tune out the sound of male laughter that echoed in the small room. She had had many broken ribs in the time that she had been imprisoned in the hellish room, and she knew that there would be many more to come before she either died or but even now her mind refused to lock around the thought that there could be any escape from this Hell. For that was surely where she was. For the first time, Buffy thought she understood what Angel had experienced when she had sent her lover to Hell the year before. And maybe this was her punishment.

"Okay boys," Lyle called out, his voice ringing out over the others and cutting through Buffy's pain. "It's about that time."

Fighting tears of pain, Buffy slowly allowed her body to uncurl from its tightly wrapped position, daring to lift her pale face and watch as the men emptied from the room. "Why are you doing this?" she murmured, not even realizing that she was thinking the question before it had escaped her lips.

Obviously surprised, Lyle stopped by the door and settled his dark gaze upon her. "Well, at first we needed to see how quickly you heal," he explained, a small smile pulling at his lips as he slowly stepped back into the room, his eyes falling on the girl. "And we obviously couldn't see that without first giving you something to heal from. And now..." he trailed off, a bright grin lifting his lips even more. "Why Slayer, what couldn't I deny a pretty face like yours?"

"But why," she persisted, her green eyes hazed with pain and betraying nothing but confusion as he slowly knelt down, inches from her prone body.

"You have your purpose," he replied simply, shrugging his shoulders almost casually before quickly reaching out and tangling his hand within her blonde masses. "And all will be revealed soon enough," he continued as he roughly lifted her head from the ground and then smashed it back to the concrete with a sick smile.

As the Slayer went limp, Lyle slowly stood, whistling softly as he took one last look at her battered frame before slipping from her prison. As the door slammed shut behind him, the room fell under a thick silence, broken only by Buffy's wet and ragged breaths. But then, that silence, too, was broken as the large air vent slowly grated out and then crashed to the floor below. Seconds later, sneaker-clad tennis shoes and long legs followed the grate, lean arms lowering a man with wild brown hair to the floor.

Pausing only briefly, the man shuffled over to Buffy, slowly kneeling down until he was replicating Lyle's stance of only a few minutes prior. "Poor Warrior," he whispered, his voice flat as he gently reached out and smoothed away a sweat-soaked strand of hair. "Warrior need help. Need Friend. Angelo get help," he continued before slowly standing and shuffling back to the grate. "Angelo get Daughter."


	16. Chapter 16

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 16  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

Impatiently Miss Parker tapped a hard nail against her thigh, her gaze ticking back and forth between the quickly scrolling information on the computer monitor and the man that sat before it. "Any day now, Broots," she hissed, her eyes jumping back to the empty room behind them. "You said that you had something for me."

"I do," Broots murmured, his eyes never leaving the computer screen. "The decryption is heavy but I think I-"

"Well stop thinking and get moving," she murmured, her eyes once more darting behind them, ensuring that they were still alone. Angelo's visit to her office that morning have left her with a deep feeling of unease that she had been unable to shake all day. The guy always managed to creep her out with his empty eyes and mumbled words, but today had been worse then normal. Despite many threats to his livelihood, he refused to leave until Parker had heard him out. And so she had.

_ "Warrior hurt."_

_ "Warrior?" Miss Parker murmured, her skepticism evident as she arched a perfectly rounded eyebrow at his rumpled appearance. "What in the hell are you on about now? What Warrior?"_

_ "Warrior hurt," Angelo repeated insistently, his hands shaking as they ran through his wild, unkempt hair. "Need Daughter's help. Need Friend."_

_ Stilling, Miss Parker turned away from the file that she had been perusing, her eyes narrowing on the man. "Who needs help, Angelo? Who needs my help?" she asked again, slowly walking forward until her eyes bore down into his own. Despite his ramblings, she knew by now that she was known to him as Daughter... and that Jarod was Friend. "Who needs our help?"_

_ But whatever clarity Angelo had gained that had brought him to her, begging for help, had obviously fled in that minute. As his eyes dulled, the man slowly turned and began stumbling away. "Bad man hurt Warrior... hurt her," he muttered before shuffling from her office. And it was those final words.. the last two, that stuck with her more than anything. Hurt her. Her._

"Broots, I want to know what my brother dearest has been up to, and I wanted to know yesterday," she muttered, her eyes assuring once more that the computer room remained empty.

"I know, I know, I... got it!" Broots quickly cried out, shifting forward into his chair as the computer issued a soft beep before information began pouring down his screen, so quickly that she was unable to follow. "According to this, Lyle has been working on a project by the codename of Aradia-"

"Aradia," Miss Parker interrupted, a slim finger tapping against her chin. "In Italian myth, Aradia was an earth goddess - the daughter of Diana and Lucifer," she murmured, her eyes focusing beyond anything in the room. "She was given the mission of teaching witches their craft and how to strike back against their persecutors..." she murmured, her voice trailing away into silence.

"Sounds vicious," Broots murmured, "but witches?" he asked, his confusion evident.

"Yes, Wiccan lore," Miss Parker confirmed, the faraway look slowly fading from her eyes as she took in Broots' skepticism. "I learned much more in my boarding school than reading, writing, and arithmetic," she said by way of explanation before slowly turning back to the information on the screen. "But why Lyle would choose this as his project name..."

"I don't pretend to understand why Mr. Lyle does the things that he does," Broots countered, his eyes returning to the computer screen before him, "but this Aradia project has been keeping him busy for quite some time."

"Well what is it?" Miss Parker demanded, forcing away the ghosts of memories that plagued her.

"I'm not sure," Broots admitted, his eyes scanning the vague information. "But there does seem to be some footage attached-" he began, his voice cutting off as the video filled the screen. Instantly both became captivated by the black and white image of the young woman who was fighting a massive grizzly bear for her life. And what was more astounding was the fact that the girl was winning.

"I know her," Miss Parker murmured, an image of the girl's determined face filling the monitor's screen as Broots paused the film. "I've seen her before," she added, trying to place the girl's face to some nagging memory that refused to come to light. Biting her lip, Miss Parker slowly leaned forward, a small finger tracing the curve of the girl's chin. "When was this taken?" she asked, her voice soft as she slowly abandoned the thought, knowing that it would come to her in time.

"Three weeks ago," Broots supplied as the video came to an end.

"Is there more?"

"Y.. yes, but they're still heavily decoded. It's going to take some-"

"Then do it," Miss Parker interrupted, her lips a thin and uncompromising line as she turned and stalked from the room - the girl's haunted eyes never leaving her vision as she hurried across the vast lobby of the Centre. So much so that she was taken by surprise by the person who seized her elbow in a merciless hold, painfully pulling her to a dark corner of the lobby. Wincing, Miss Parker angrily pulled her arm towards her, her eyes glittering dangerously... until they locked on her brother's furious countenance.

"I know what you're doing," he hissed, surprising her with his vehemence.

Startled, Miss Parker allowed her fear to show for the briefest of moments before she quickly crossed her arms across her chest, her eyes meeting his glare for glare. "Walking to my office? Astute observation," she bit back, her voice carrying a bit louder than she had intended.

Quickly sending any curious observers a harsh glare, Lyle leaned in closer, bending until their faces were inches apart. "Did you really think that Broots could get into those files without me knowing? Without tripping any alarms?"

Off her guard once again, Miss Parker hesitated only briefly before jumping on the offensive. "Who is she?" she demanded, her voice a soft hiss.

"You don't recognize her?" Lyle countered, a small smile lifting his lips. "After that little girl managed to allow your precious Pretender to escape, I thought hers would be a face that you would never forget."

In an instant, the memory snapped into place and Miss Parker felt herself flounder in confusion. "What's she doing here?" she demanded, stalking forward so that Lyle had to back away. "Is this what you've been so wrapped up in these last few months?"

"Stay out of it," Lyle muttered, his eyes warning her not to argue. "This is none of your concern. You need to focus on finding Jarod, and on Jarod alone. And that's an order," he added, his voice carrying the obvious threat. But as the glitter in his sister's eyes only intensified, Lyle knew that his warning had done the very opposite effect that he had wanted. Now, she was only encouraged to meddle more. Sighing, he quickly changed tactics as his sneer melted into a charming smile. "Listen, the girl plays a purpose."

"What purpose?" Miss Parker demanded, not fooled for an instant by her brother's act.

"You'll find out soon enough," Lyle countered, his smile broadening. "And besides, if you promise to keep your nose where it belongs... well, there might be something in it for you.

"What could you possibly have to offer me?" Parker scoffed, her eyebrows disappearing under her perfectly styled hair. "Besides, perhaps, your permanent exit from my life?"

"How about your freedom?" Lyle murmured, his voice so soft that his sister unconsciously bent forward to hear him better. And as her eyes widened slightly, he knew that she understood. "I know about your deal with our Father," he continued, his voice low, "and in his absence, I'm willing to honor it. You get Jarod back and you're free from the Centre. Free to leave and go wherever the hell you want as long as it's far away from here."

"And what does this have to do with the girl?" Parker asked, her mind spinning from his words.

"She's going to be the one to get him back and set you free... now do we have a deal? Will you stop your digging?"

For another second the sight of the girl's haunted eyes swam before her vision before Miss Parker quickly pushed it down to someplace deep inside, instead being replaced by the vision of Tommy's smiling face. He had wanted for her to be free. She wanted to be free. To be free of this place and the horrors that it filled her with. And with this small little deal, she could finally have her freedom.

"Do we have a deal?" Lyle repeated, his tone insistent.

"We have a deal," Miss Parker murmured, her voice low as she turned away and walked towards her office on stiff legs. As a deep coldness invaded her body, she tried to fight the feeling that she had just sold her soul to the Devil himself.

* * *

"Be right back," Oz murmured, leaning in to kiss Willow lightly on the cheek before hurrying into the club. Sighing, Willow slowly crossed her arms, hoping to ward off the chill as she leaned back against the open back doors of the van. It had been a long night, and uncharacteristically as of late, a slow one. In a hope to save his suffering club, the owner of the Bronze booked the Dingoes that night in a failed attempt to draw in some business.. a very failed attempt. In the months since the Slayer had disappeared and the town had become a haven for those undead and decidedly evil, the citizens of Sunnydale had finally wised to the fact that the night was not a good place to be roaming - even while in the midst of large groups of people. And tonight, in honor of their first gig in ages, the Scoobies had put off their ever-necessary patrol to support their friend. An act that Willow was sure her boyfriend appreciated, even if he had a strange and noncommittal way of showing it.

"Willow, is that you?"

Surprised, Willow straightened and quickly stuck her hand in her large coat pocket, instinctively tightening her hold on the cross she always kept with her... at least always since... since then. Turning, she peered in the darkened alley, eyes searching for the face that went with the strangely familiar voice. And as the person finally stepped into the weak light of a nearby streetlamp, Willow felt her tension only heighten. "Harmony?" she asked, her voice betraying her confusion as she hesitantly took a step away from the other girl.

"It is you!" Harmony quickly gushed, hurrying into the light, her blonde hair glinting in the fluorescent lighting. "God, it's been ages! How've you been?"

"Uh... busy," Willow murmured, her eyes quickly raking past the girl, searching desperately for a sign of Oz or her friends. "And you?" she asked automatically, biting her lip as she realized that she was utterly and completely alone with the other girl. Giles would have her head if he knew that they had unwittingly broken the Scooby gang cardinal rule: never be left alone. And of course, the one time that the rule was forgotten would be the one time that she would be cornered by a bubbly, ex-cheerleader and decidedly undead blonde bimbo.

"Oh, you know.. dead," Harmony responded nonchalantly as her face shifted and she darted forward, swatting away Willow's cross before she even had it pulled from her pocket.

Crying out, Willow felt a cold hand squeeze her throat as she was shoved painfully until her back collided with the hard brick wall of the Bronze. Gasping, she could do nothing as Harmony leaned forward and sunk her teeth into Willow's unyielding flesh, a muffled scream of pain escaping her lips. As her vision became clouded and pain radiated from the wound, Willow became lost in the sensation of her life essence being drained away - only to blink stupidly as Harmony quickly stumbled away, freeing her from her painful hold.

"Willow, are you alright?"

Gasping, Willow weakly lifted a hand to her blood-smeared neck, wincing against the pain as she turned her stunned eyes away from Harmony's hissing countenance and focusing on Oz's worried face, a large cross brandished before him and holding the vampire at bay.

"Willow, are you alright?" he repeated, the worry more than evident in his voice as he quickly moved to her side, gently wrapping one arm around her slim waist as the other continued to hold the cross in the demon's face.

"Y.. yes," she stammered, leaning heavily against his shoulder. But whatever else she was to say was forgotten as the alley was suddenly swarmed with large, bulky men in green camos and large guns. Unable to stop her small yelp of surprise, she quickly drew back with Oz as the guys surrounded Harmony, their guns unwavering.

It wasn't the first time that the Scooby gang had encountered the commandos, but seeing as how they seemed to be just as eager to stop the flood of evil in the town, neither group bothered with the other. Without their intervention, they all knew that by now the town surely would have been lost. Nothing seemed to scare the evil that flooded the Hellmouth since the Slayer had disappeared. Nothing and no one.

"Sir," one of the men spoke, his hooded face nodding back at Willow and Oz. "The girl's been bitten. She needs to be taken into quarantine - she might be infected," he continued as several of the men broke from the group and began advancing on the two. Crying out again, Willow struggled back as Oz placed himself protectively before her, dropping his cross and eyes desperately searching for a weapon of some sort.

"Infected?" Xander's voice asked, ringing out in the dark alleyway as he and Giles melted out from the shadows, quickly flanking Oz and standing protectively in front of Willow. Snorting derisively, Xander raised his crossbow and aimed it at the advancing men, causing them to quickly raise their weapons and aim in turn. "Not that I'm not grateful for the help, but don't you even have the slightest idea of what it is that you guys hunt each night?"

"Xander," Giles murmured, his voice carrying a warning as he eyed the many guns that were trained in their direction.

"No Giles, they should know," Willow countered, her eyes locking on the brown eyes of the leader - his face hidden behind his mask. "They should know that they're capturing vampires."

"And vampires can't _infect_ people and make them vampires unless, after drinking from the victim until that person is near death, that person then drinks the vampire's blood. Goodbye soul, hello demon replacement," Xander continued, a weary grin lifting his lips. "So as you can see, my friend here is not infected and is very much of the living variety."

Sighing, Giles slowly lowered his weapon, his gaze sweeping over the many guns that remained trained on their position. Nodding slightly, he waited for Xander to mimic his movements before turning his tired eyes to the evident leader of this squad. "We know that without your aid the town would have been lost months ago - we fight on the same side. Don't change that."

The man contemplated Giles' words for many minutes before he nodded his head, almost imperceptibly, before turning back to their captive. "Take the Hostile and move out," he ordered, his tone brooking no room for argument. And with that, the small group of men were gone, melting back into the shadows until the leader remained. "We, too, are aware of your efforts and actions. If you stay out of our way, then we will continue to do likewise," he said softly before turning and jogging after his men, leaving the Scoobies alone once again.

"Hey, Oz - whoa!" Devon whispered as he came to an abrupt halt, his departure from the Bronze having gone unnoticed as his eyes locked on the deadly-looking weapons being held by Xander and Giles - and vainly attempting to be hidden soon after. "What'd I miss?" he asked, his eyes darting away from the weapons to lock on his bassist's eyes.

"Groupies," Oz replied, shrugging his shoulders absently as he turned away from his band member and pulled Willow's hand away from her neck, inspecting the bloody wound.

"Nasty," Devon commented, eyeing the mess with wide eyes.

"Truly," Oz agreed as Devon shrugged in reply and opened the door to the Bronze.

"That's everything. Later," he called before disappearing into the club once again.

Sighing, Giles slowly moved forward and took Willow gently by the arm. "Let's get you back to my apartment and checked out. I think this has been enough action for one night," he added, his eyes wearily taking in the dark night. Nodding, the group did as directed, Oz gently helping Willow into the van... all save one. Seeing this, Giles turned back and quietly stood beside the young man, taking in his small frown and the strange glint in his eyes. "Xander?" he asked, waiting for the boy's eyes to turn to him.

"You know," Xander began, his gaze never straying from the shadowed corners of the alley, "I haven't seen Harmony since she attacked that guy at the beginning of this summer."

"The man from the hospital? Who was running from... his friends?" Giles asked, remembering that night all too well.

"Yeah... I guess I never really forgot it. It was right before I left for my road trip... one of the last night's that I went on patrol with Buffy," he murmured, his voice trailing away as he slowly shook his head and began moving towards the van.

Sighing, Giles wearily lifted a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. Now he recognized the strange glint in the young man's dark eyes - a look that he recognized in his eyes all too often. It was a glint of resignation and loss - of acceptance of what they had lost so many months ago. What, unwillingly, they were all beginning to believe was lost to them forever. The one thing, and only thing, that would once again make their tiny, broken little group whole. Not the Slayer. Just Buffy. Just their Buffy.


	17. Chapter 17

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 17  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

As the sun peaked in its position in the sky, its cold light filtered through the large windows that lined the massive entryway into the fortress known as the Centre. The natural lighting caused the marble to sparkle under the bright rays, little motes of dust catching in the sunlight and falling softly to the floor. Entranced, Miss Parker noted these small signs of beauty in a place of such ugly bitterness as she crossed the large domain, her heels clicking hollowly on the hard floor.

"The building was cleaned of all traces," the man beside her continued to drone on, oblivious to the fact that he held less than her full attention. Then again, she already knew what the Cleaner would report. It was always the same with Jarod. They would find his bread crumb just in time to reach his long-abandoned hiding hole, finding only the traces that he wished to leave them with. Jarod was nothing else if not thorough.

"Miss Parker!"

Startled from her reverie, the leggy brunette turned away from her companion and watched as Broots hurried across the lobby, slipping occasionally on the slick marble floor to come to an undignified slide against her side. "Careful, Broots!" she snapped, quickly stepping away while adjusting the short hem of her skirt. Lifting her eyes, she noted the attention his entrance had gained. Sighing, she nodded to the cleaner who took his cue and continued on his way. "What?" she demanded, turning back to the computer technician with a tired glare.

"I figured out Jarod's clue!" the man continued as though he hadn't even noticed her scathing glance. He was probably so accustomed to her harsh words and unjustified anger by this point that such acts didn't even faze him... much.

"And where does Jarod want us to run to this time? Atlanta? Philadelphia? Boston?" she asked, her arms crossing wearily over her body. They had barely even had time to recuperate from their last jaunt across the continent after the pretender and she was hardly looking forward to a repeat of their last wasted effort.

"Nope, Alma College," Broots replied while shuffling a small mountain of paper in his hands. "It's a small, private college in the middle of Michigan. The school's records have a listing of a guest professor, Professor Jarod Sifter of the Science Department."

"Sifter?" she murmured, her eyes betraying her skepticism as she turned and continued across the large lobby, Broots hurrying to keep up. "And what brings Jarod to middle Michigan?"

"The Pine River - the school is heading up the clean up of the river. It's one of the most polluted rivers in the country thanks to a large chemical and petrol company that were based in the small town."

"And so now Jarod is playing the environmentalist? Sifter, right?" Miss Parker surmised, a wry grin lifting her lips.

"Did I overhear correctly?" a new voice interrupted, causing a fierce scowl to twist Miss Parker's thinly-painted lips.

"Didn't you learn that eavesdropping is considered rude in most countries?" she returned evenly, turning to spare a patented glare for her brother and Mr. Raines, who came squeaking up to join their little party.

"Lucky for us that my sister is Miss Manners," Lyle laughed, a bright smile lifting his lips. "And with Jarod on the radar, it seems that this is the perfect opportunity to test our latest project," he continued, winking broadly at his sister as Raines shifted slightly beside him.

"P.. project?" Broots squeaked, his eyes skipping over to take in Miss Parker's small frown.

"Yes, Project Aradia. You may have seen mention of it," Lyle added, his smile turning cold as he leveled a glare worthy of Miss Parker on the computer technician. As the man balked under his gaze, Lyle reached forward and snatched the papers from the man's hands. "And with Sydney out for the day, I guess that just leaves you and me, Sis," he said, his eyes containing a question that Broots didn't understand.

"Bu-"

"That will be all, Mr. Broots," Lyle cut in, his tone sharp as he nodded curtly at the technician, clearly giving his dismissal. "I'll have the jet prepared. Twenty minutes," he added, nodding once more to his sister before turning on his heel and moving away, Mr. Raines making his noisy way after.

"What was that all about?" Broots whispered, his shoulders sagging in relief as he turned his eyes back to the woman who still stood beside him, her eyes locked on their retreating backs.

"A deal made with the Devil," she murmured, her voice so low that he had to strain to hear her. "A deal with the Devil," she repeated before slowly turning and walking away, leaving him alone in the great hall.

* * *

"Damnit!" Miss Parker cursed, her breath catching in her throat as she hurried into the small office, her eyes sweeping over the littered confines. It looked as though Jarod had left in a hurry. Instead of the usual tidy remains and small clue that Jarod usually left, the room was filled with texts, papers, and old coffee cups, piled on every surface in the room and some scattering on the floor. With two long strides she quickly crossed the room and wrenched the single window open, a biting winter wind stealing through and stinging her face with its ferocity. Ignoring winter's bite, she leaned out, her eyes tracing over the empty campus until they lit upon Jarod's tall figure, casually making his way down the icy sidewalk. And then, as if he had heard her earlier curse, he quickly turned his head, caught her eye, and then broke into a run. Fighting off another wave of curses, she turned and hurried towards the door, stopping as her brother's lean frame filled the doorway before her. "Move your ass and we still might catch him!" she hissed, aiming to shove him back, only to be pushed firmly to the side in return. "What are you doing?" she demanded, watching in disbelief as he casually strolled to the open window, idly glancing outside before turning back towards her.

"Slayer," he called out, causing Miss Parker to draw back even further as a new person entered the room. Recoiling, she watched as Lyle's new toy moved to his side with a cat-like grace that defied humanity. The girl looked the same as the first time that Miss Parker had met her.. for the most part. Her long blonde hair had been secured back from her face in a tight French braid and loose fitting black cargo pants rustled as she moved. She wore a tight fitting black, long-sleeved shirt with a black down-vest over top. With the small boots on her feet the girl gave off a utilitarian, military look - probably a far cry from what most other people her age were wearing on the small college campus. Not as though they had seen very many students since entering. Apparently the campus was still on their Christmas break. Yet while the girl seemed the same picture of fitness and health that she had been when they had met all those months ago, the thing that made Miss Parker recoil from her was the deadened look in her eyes. She had made the mistake of meeting the Slayer's eyes only once, and it was a mistake that she wasn't going to repeat.

Per Lyle's order, she had made her way to the Centre's jet within twenty minutes, only slightly surprised to find the two additions to their usual Sweeper team: the girl and a very angry Mr. Raines.

_"She's not ready!" Raines hissed, his eyes darting back and forth between the girl's vacant eyes and those of Mr. Lyle. "Her will is s tronger than anticipated and it's taken us three times the amount of time planned in order to bring her to this stage. If we had done it my way she would have been ready within days-"_

_"And I already told you that I don't want to completely ruin her unless it's absolutely necessary," Lyle cut in with a tired air that suggested that the two had had this conversation many times before. "And all of the tests show that she's ready for a field-"_

_"The subject is strong," Mr. Raines interrupted, his voice an angry wheeze. "Stronger than even we had anticipated. She may be able to throw it again if-"_

_"I said she's ready," Lyle interrupted in a tone that brooked no argument. "Slayer, get in the plane," he ordered, and to Miss Parker's disgusted amazement, the girl did directly as ordered. Turning, she moved away from the two, her eyes betraying not even a flicker of emotion as she boarded the plane._

It was the emotion - or lack thereof, that had startled Miss Parker the most. Even though it had been months ago, she could still remember the fire in the girl's eyes as she took down both Lyle and Sam without even breaking a sweat. Now, it was as though that fire had been extinguished, and unexpectedly, Miss Parker found that she hated herself even more for the small role that she played in this girl's plight.

"Slayer," Lyle continued when the girl reached his side, a smirk pulling at his lips and making it evident that he relished in his unwilling audience to this sick display. "Apprehend this man," he continued, flashing a picture of Jarod before the girl's eyes before waving his hand out the open window. "I want him unharmed and alive," he added. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," the girl murmured, her voice a hollow monotone as Lyle slowly stepped aside. And then, to Miss Parker's horror, the girl gripped the window ledge with her small hands and then vaulted over its sides, her blonde braid trailing after her.

Unable to stop herself, Miss Parker hurried to the window, sure that she would see the girl's form crumpled and broken on the icy walk two stories below. Instead, she found her eyes skipping over the rumpled snow and then on towards where the girl was hurtling after Jarod's retreating back with an inhuman speed.

"Neat, huh?" Lyle commented with a small smirk before turning and sauntering from the room.

* * *

As his breath left him in icy plumes, Jarod clutched a hand to his aching side, fighting the stitch that was growing as he continued to jog along the deserted walk. He was cutting it close, he knew, but he hadn't been expecting the Centre so soon. Apparently Broots was getting better at deciphering his clues than Jarod had given him credit for. But this small snag in his plans didn't mean anything, for no matter what, Jarod was always prepared for whatever contingency the Centre threw his way.

Well, almost.

The crunching of light feet on the snow behind him barely had time to register before Jarod felt as though he was being bowled over by a steam roller. Grunting he hit the snow and rolled in its white midst, kicking up a wave of the dusty particles. Groaning, he had time to wonder why he had ever considered snow to be soft before he slowly rolled over, blinking icy lashes before his vision finally found focus on a face from his past.

"Buffy?" he asked, his voice conveying his disbelief as Jarod slowly staggered to his feet, ignoring the snow that was caked on his long, dark jacket. But whatever answer he had been expecting never came as he noticed her deadened green eyes for the first time - eyes that flickered slightly before hardening into nothing. "Buffy?" he began again, warily advancing on her slender form, noting that her eyes shifted again at the mention of her name. Concerned, he began to reach for her when the muffled shouts of others caught his attention. Cursing, Jarod glanced back and watched as a swarm of black-clothed people poured out of the building he had been in and began running in their direction.

"Come on, we gotta go!" he murmured, quickly reaching out and snagging Buffy's arm in his, aiming to pull her to safety... only to jerk to halt at her unyielding form. It was like he was pulling on a steel pole, planted far in the earth. "Buffy, we have to go! It's the Centre!" he urged, tugging on her arm once again with the same dismal results. It was then, and only then, that his genius mind processed the facts that he had been desperate to ignore.

"No," he whispered, his words more of a sick plea than denial as he stepped closer, staring into her unblinking green eyes. Her empty green eyes. Closing his eyes against the sight, Jarod slowly backed away, his attention drawn once more to the group of Sweepers that were closing in on their position. Biting his lip, he turned back to Buffy and gently lifted her chin until he was staring into her empty eyes. "I'll be back for you. I promise. I'll make this right," he vowed before slowly forcing himself to turn away - only to stop as a small hand locked on his arm, holding him still. Surprised, Jarod glanced down at the small hand and then lifted his face to her unyielding gaze.

"Buffy?" he questioned, gently trying to pull his arm back - but while her grip wasn't painful, it was as though his arm was caught in a vise. "Buffy, you have to let me go!" he ordered, struggling uselessly to pull away as the voices drew ever closer. But he knew that there was no reasoning with her... there was no one to reason _with_. Instead, Jarod began to pull against her hold even more, beginning to get frantic as he struggled against her.

Growling in frustration, Jarod quickly changed tactics and unzipped his jacket, slipping from its warm confines and from her tight grip. Turning, he began to move through the deep snow, following the wall of a nearby building.

But just as Jarod thought that freedom could still be his, he sensed movement behind him as he was shoved against the very wall he was struggling beside. Grunting, Jarod felt the cold bite of brick against his cheek before he was quickly turned, a small hand moving up until it was locked in a flat palm against the base of his neck, thereby pinning him like a fly to the wall. "Buffy, you have to let me go," he murmured, struggling against her grip, her green eyes flickering slightly.

"But she won't," a new voice interrupted, instantly sending a wave of ice through every inch of Jarod's body. "At least not until I tell her to do so."

Slowly, Jarod pulled his eyes away from Buffy's green orbs and instead looked past her, seeing his worst fears confirmed as they were quickly flanked by a small team of Sweepers... and Mr. Lyle and Miss Parker. The Sweeper team wore no expression, their guns trained levelly on him. And while Mr. Lyle wore a look of immense satisfaction, Miss Parker's eyes continued to flick back and forth between him and his captor, her expression unreadable. "What have you done to her, Lyle?" Jarod asked, his eyes narrowing on the man.

"Shouldn't it be obvious? You're the genius, aren't you? Figure it out," he laughed, his smile turning twisted as he reached a leather-clad hand into the deep pockets of his long black coat.

"Programming," Jarod whispered, answering his own question as his eyes returned to Buffy's. Refusing to give in to the panic that was quickly flooding his veins, Jarod focused on her eyes, hoping to see something - any sign of life to give him hope. "Buffy, you have to fight this," hemurmured, his words meant only for her as he saw a flicker once more - a flicker of something that he prayed he didn't imagine. "You're stronger than this - stronger than him!" he urged, oblivious to the people that surrounded them. "They aren't here now," he continued, thinking back into his brief glimpse into the girl's mind from his pretend so long ago, "but your friends give you strength - even now. Your friends and family: Willow, Xander-"

"Giles," she whispered, surprising him with her words as her eyes slid shut, her hold loosening on him so imperceptibly that only he had noticed. And as a slight tremble shook her small frame, Buffy's eyes slid open once again. Only this time it was truly Buffy that gazed back at him - a Buffy whose eyes held so much confusion and pain that Jarod instantly felt his heart go out to her. "Jarod," she murmured, her voice a soft whisper that carried so much despair and... hopelessness. Defeat. But even as Jarod recognized the deadened look that her bright orbs contained, a new emotion seemed to fill her small body, causing her hold to tighten once more. "Run," she murmured, her eyes locking on his. "Save yourself," she whispered before she dropped her hold so fast that he could only stand there in stupefied shock.

"Slayer-" Lyle began, obviously just as startled by her sudden movement as the others. But before he could finish his order, Buffy had lashed out quicker than the eye could follow, a viscous kick sending the man flying to the snow covered ground.

"The name's Buffy," she hissed, her eyes narrowing dangerously before she slowly turned, a deadly smile lifting her lips as she took in the group of armed men that surrounded her. "And I've been itching for some payback for quite a while now," she added, recognizing many of the men from her daily beating sessions. And with that, she quickly got down to business, lashing out with hands and feet and attempting to take down as many as possible before she was taken down herself. "I said, run!" she managed to call out, her eyes locking with Jarod's briefly as she dodged a clumsy punch and downed her opponent with a heavy boot to the abdomen.

Startled from his shocked stupor, Jarod quickly glanced to the sole other person not involved in this melodrama, his eyes fixing on Miss Parker. The woman was in shock, her gun held to the side and her eyes locked on the girl's inhuman speed. And then, her eyes slowly lifted and met with the Pretender's - eyes that held sorrow and shame. Yet Miss Parker didn't raise her gun and aim it at him. It seemed as though at this moment, she was incapable of continuing their game of the huntress and the hunted.

Nodding his head, Jarod slowly began backing away from the fracas, his eyes skipping from the battle to the parking lot only 100 meters away: his freedom. With shuffling steps that became more sure as the distance increased, Jarod began to make his getaway, his breath leaving him in thick, icy plumes. But as Buffy's voice rang out behind him, Jarod found his steps faltering until they stopped altogether. Turning slowly, Jarod watched as Mr. Lyle lowered a dart gun, a shaking hand reaching up to brush away a slimy trail of blood from his nose. And before him stood Buffy, a small hand slowly pulling the tiny dart from her neck, eyes locked on Mr. Lyle before she slowly stumbled and then fell to her knees on the snowy ground.

Biting his lip, Jarod knew that escape could still be his. Freedom could still be his. But not at this cost. Never at this cost. Just as it had been when he had witnessed Miss Parker's shooting, he couldn't just walk away from this. Turning, Jarod quickly began to jog back towards the group, idly watching as Miss Parker finally raised her gun, the pistol aimed in his direction. Ignoring her, he rushed past the groaning group of Sweepers and fell to his knees beside the small girl, gently lifting her head and cradling her in his arms. The fight had loosened her braid and long wisps of blonde pooled around her pale face, her eyes closed. Frantic, Jarod quickly bit the tip of his gloves and pulled the material away, pushing his warm hand against her neck and checking her pulse. "What did you give her?" he demanded, his voice sounding raw and angry as his eyes locked with Mr. Lyle's.

"A special formula cooked up just for her," came Lyle's muttered response, a piece of icy snow now being held against his bleeding nose - broken from the looks of it. Turning, he then nodded towards the team of Sweepers, finally back on their feet and reclaiming their weapons. "Get him," he muttered as two quickly broke away, grabbing Jarod by the arms and roughly pulling him away as two others hoisted Buffy's limp frame between them. From their rough handling, it was obvious that they were less than happy with their earlier beating.

Growling, Jarod twisted out of his captors' hands and surged towards the two other sweepers, shoving them aside and gently lifting the girl's unconscious form into his arms. Ignoring Lyle's snort of laughter, Jarod tightened his hold on Buffy's slim frame, his eyes turning from her pale face to lock on Miss Parker. Her eyes had never left him, continually following his movements with an expression that he couldn't read.

As two sweepers moved to intercept his actions once again, Miss Parker finally broke from her stupor. "Leave him," she ordered, her voice as cold as the winter wind as her eyes dared her brother to argue.

For a moment, it seemed as though he considered doing just that before Lyle shrugged his shoulders and nodded towards a black, windowless van in the nearby parking lot. "In the van," he ordered, watching as his team began herding Jarod towards the waiting vehicle. "Let's get out of here before the locals get curious. And by the way," he added, his eyes dancing to the pretender, "it's time to come home," he said, laughing once again as he parroted his sister's usual line, his eyes twinkling madly.

And as Jarod was slowly swallowed by the van's dark interior, Buffy still cradled against him, he knew that it would not be a pleasant homecoming... for either of them.


	18. Chapter 18

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 18  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

The Centre was a tall and imposing building - more of a modern-day fortress than a company headquarters, its wide structure impressive to the eye. And unfortunately, it was the only home that Jarod could ever remember having. While only just a small child he had arrived at the Centre for the first time, a hood blinding him to his first view of the place that he would call home for decades to come.. home and then his prison. During his second return to the Centre, only a few short months ago, he had returned unwillingly as Lyle's prisoner, drugged to prevent any sort of an escape attempt. Yet this time, on his third return to the Centre to be its prisoner once more, was the first that he entered the Centre as its hostage, using its own front door. And it was an experience that he hoped to never again repeat.

During the short flight from Michigan to Delaware, Buffy never once regained consciousness - and Jarod never once left her side. Oddly enough, Lyle allowed him this small comfort, and when it came time to leave the town car's spacious confines, he once more had the Slayer cradled in his arms. As the sweepers formed a tight circle around him, he found his head arching back, his eyes tracing the imposing and hard lines of the Centre as they slowly moved up the walk. And as they entered the grand marble foyer, Miss Parker and Mr. Lyle in the lead, a hush fell upon the odd scattering of Centre employees. As though they were on display, Lyle led them in the most absurd route, parading them past employees and offices alike, losing Miss Parker somewhere along the circuitous route until they finally arrived at the elevators that would bring them down into the dark belly of the Centre.

"Take them down," Mr. Lyle ordered, his eyes lingering briefly on Buffy's limp form before he turned and started away from their small group. "I have to make a call to the Triumvirate," he finished, his eyes sparkling and he swaggered away.

Silently, Jarod watched this display before allowing himself to be herded into the spacious lift. It was apparent that Lyle had no fear of Jarod making an escape attempt yet - and to be honest, the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Not yet. How could he with Buffy still unconscious and cradled in his arms? Instead, Jarod followed his sweeper escort down, and further down, deep below the earth to one of the lowest sublevels that could be found. And there, he was led down a dank, concrete hallway and to a single door that stood at the end of the long hallway's length. As the door groaned open on wet and rusted hinges, Jarod couldn't help the small shudder that ran through his body. Eyes straining to adjust to the dim lighting, he found himself frozen just outside the door, taking in the dark hole that lay before him.

"Get in," Willie ordered, nudging Jarod forward with the cold muzzle of the gun pressed against his back - insulated by his thick winter jacket which had been returned by Miss Parker while in the van.

Nodding, Jarod silently crossed the threshold, his eyes alighting on the wide bench that ran across the opposite wall - the sole furnishing to the small tomb. Shuffling forward, he moved across the small space and gently lowered Buffy onto the hard surface, tenderly brushing a strand of blonde from her pale face. But instead of hearing the door slam behind him, leaving him alone with the single bulb in his prison, he heard footsteps follow them in, sounding like a muffled thump on the damp concrete floor. Sighing heavily, noting his breath leave his lips in a white plume, Jarod turned inquisitive eyes to the man behind him.

"Now give me your jacket," Willie ordered, his dark eyes betraying his obvious enjoyment over his orders.

Biting his lip, Jarod considered arguing for the briefest of moments before he slowly nodded his acquiescence. Without a word, he unzipped the heavily insulated jacket and shrugged out of it, already missing the warm material before tossing it over to the sweeper. Shaking his head, he was about to turn away when the black man spoke once more.

"Now toss over your shirt, shoes, and socks," he added, a smile lifting his full lips as he tossed the coat to another sweeper.

His eyes narrowing, Jarod curtly shook his head. "It can't be more than fifty degrees in here," he said, the first words he had spoken since leaving Michigan. "I doubt the Triumvirate would find much value in a frozen Pretender," he argued, only to still as Willie's grin widened.

"Mr. Lyle's orders. Now are you going to hand 'em over or do I have to send someone over there to help you out?"

Sighing, Jarod briefly considered arguing, fighting even, but one glance at the girl lying unconscious behind him and Jarod knew his answer. Frowning, he slowly began working at the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one before slipping the long-sleeved garment from his arms, leaving him in nothing but a thin, cotton tank. Instantly a wave of goose bumps prickled his skin at the contact with the cold air as he bent down and undid his boots, balancing on one foot as he peeled off one sock and then the other, tossing the remaining clothing to the other sweeper that had joined them in the room. "There, happy?" he asked, standing tall and refusing to show how his feet were already beginning to ache from the numbing contact with the cold floor.

"And now the girl's," Willie ordered, nodding to Buffy over Jarod's shoulder.

For perhaps the first time, Jarod felt his face crease into a hard line of anger as his eyes narrowed on the tall man. "No," he growled, moving back until he was standing protectively in front of her inert form. "It's too-"

"Do it now or I get someone else to help," he murmured, cocking the gun in Jarod's direction while he shifted his gaze to the slender girl lying behind him, his slight smile conveying a lewd undertone to the threat.

Given his alternatives, Jarod knew that he had no choice and slowly turned his back on the two. With a heavy sigh he settled on his knees on the ground before Buffy, hoping that she would forgive him later. Gently he reached out and undid the zipper of her down vest, his strong arms easily supporting her as he slid her from its confines, leaving her clothed in the tight black shirt. Stilling, he slowly reached a hand forward and tugged at the hem of the shirt, relieved to find a thin black tank beneath. Minutes later he slowly laid her back on the cold bench, clothed only in her loose pants and the thin tank top. Turning, he quickly stood to his full height and tossed the garments at the waiting man, his eyes never once leaving Willie's.

For once, Jarod was grateful for Willie's silence as the man nodded once in his direction and then backed from the room, the thunderous sound of the door closing and locking tightly behind them reverberating in their small confines. Sighing, Jarod finally released a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding, his eyes quickly scanning over their prison for the first time - and coming up empty. It was small, no more than seven wide by ten feet long - the bench that took up the opposite wall just long enough to hold his tall frame and almost completely dwarfing Buffy's petite form. Otherwise, the room was devoid of everything, with not even a camera to break up the monotony. No camera, no air vent, no nothing. Just the bench and the single door set opposite it.

Sighing wearily, Jarod crossed his arms and ran his hands over his pimpled flesh, trying to ignore the cold as he began pacing the length of the room. He had no way to foretell what Lyle had in store for them, but from past experience, Jarod knew that it couldn't be good. And while they had allowed Buffy and Jarod to remain together for now, he knew that all too soon they would be separated, and then it would be a cold day in hell until he heard word of her condition. No, if possible, he needed to find an escape for them, and the sooner the better. Yet any plan of action, of escape, was quickly being dwarfed by the question of how they had managed to get into this predicament in the first place. More importantly, how Buffy Summers had managed to be drawn into this all.

But at the sound of the small whimper from behind him, all of Jarod's thoughts and worries were forgotten as he hurried to Buffy's side, gently kneeling down beside the bench. Gently, he reached out and laid a hand against her smooth cheek, dismayed by how cold her skin was already growing. Concerned, he quickly lifted his hand and laid it against her bared forearm, finding the skin as cold as ice as she began to tremble from the cold. Sighing, he chewed his lip as he considered his options, desperately searching his mind for a way to keep them both warm and prevent the onset of hypothermia. In the end, there really was only one solution.

"I just hope you ask questions before beating me to pulp later," he muttered, his voice sounding hollow in the small room as he gently climbed onto the bench, crawling over her small form so that his back was to the wall. Tentatively he drew her small body against his, one arm cradling her head, her back pressed against his chest and his other arm draped over her waist and pulling her close - effectively spooning on the wide bench. Almost instantly her shaking began to subside as their shared body heat began to warm the two. Sighing, Jarod slowly laid down his weary head, burying his face in her golden tresses, and allowed her even breathing him to lull him into a restless sleep.

* * *

Confused, Buffy slowly blinked in the bright light, lifting an arm and shielding her eyes from the glare. "What's going on?" she murmured, slowly lowering her arm and taking in her surroundings. She didn't know what she had been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been this. Turning, she took in the small apartment, bright sunlight warming the room as she took in the soft floral dress that she wore.

"You know, B," a familiar voice spoke from behind her, causing Buffy to turn quickly, her eyes alighting on the dark-haired young woman who sat on the bed behind her, "I heard talk once of a legend."

"What legend, Faith?" Buffy asked, slowly moving forward until she was settled beside the girl.

"A legend about a bird-"

"A bird," Buffy murmured, a small smile lifting her lips as she took in the other girl. She looked good, her dark hair long and shining over her pale shoulders, her tank and pants tight and revealing, but not overly.

"Yeah, one that sings just once in its life, better than any other anywhere," Faith continued, her painted lips lifting in a small smile. "From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree, never resting until it's found one. Then, singing among the branches it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine," Faith continued, her smile turning sad as she let her eyes fall to her hands, resting in her lap. "Dying, it rises above its own agony to out sing the lark and the nightingale one beautiful song, existence the price. But you know what, B?" she asked, her eyes skipping back to the Slayer's. "In that moment, the whole damn world stills to listen, and the Powers above smile 'cause they know that the best is only bought at the cost of great pain."

"Pain?" Buffy murmured, her brow creasing as she slowly stood, her eyes sweeping over the room once again, a vague memory of another visit, and another talk, plaguing her mind. "This is a dream, isn't it? I'm asleep..."

"Miles to go before we sleep, B... miles to go," Faith responded, slowly standing and facing her sister slayer.

"But this _is_ a dream, isn't it?" she persisted, trying to fight the fog that invaded her every thought.

"Hey, in the real world as in dreams, nothing's quite what it seems," Faith responded with a shrug, turning away and moving towards the large window. "And you know what? You can kill the dreamer, but you can't kill the dream."

"I think that was supposed to be about Martin Luther King, Jr.," Buffy responded wryly as she joined the girl at the window, her eyes seeing nothing. Confused, she quickly turned back to the other slayer. "But you're not... dead, are you?" she asked, unable to mask the worry in her voice.

As if pondering this question, Faith looked down at the hands that she cradled before her. "Everyone knows theyre going to die... but nobody believes it," she said softly, her gaze slowly lifting. "If we did, we would do things differently."

"Like stop playing games?" Buffy asked, arching a thin eyebrow at the young woman. "I don't understand what you're trying to tell me."

For a second, a small grin lifted Faith's lips. "Me neither," she admitted with a shrug. "But I know that in a world that I seldom understand, there are winds of destiny that blow when we least expect them," she continued, her eyes focusing on something just past Buffy's shoulder. "Sometimes they gust with the fury of a hurricane while other times they barely fan a girl's cheek. But the winds can't be denied, B, bringing as they often do a future that's impossible to ignore."

"O...kay," Buffy murmured, her expression puzzled as she tried to work through Faith's words. "So what's coming?"

"We cannot set the rules of the game, but we can choose the arena," Faith responded evenly, slowly turning away and approaching the bed once more.

"What arena? What game?" Buffy asked, shaking her head quickly. "I don't want to play any games!"

"Dead men, naked they shall be, one with the moon in the west wind and the spring rain," Faith continued as though Buffy hadn't said a word. "When the bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone, they shall have stars at elbow and foot. Though they go mad they shall be sane; though they sink through the sea they shall rise again; though lovers be lost, love shall not and death shall have no dominion-"

"I. Don't. Understand," Buffy said slowly as a wry chuckle escaped her tormentor's lips. "Faith, this isn't funny!" she protested, her lips set in a hard frown.

"Life is an unrelenting comedy. Therein lies the tragedy of it," Faith responded, a smirk lifting her lips, almost as if she was enjoying Buffy's torment.

"I'll show you tragedy," Buffy growled, unable to stop herself as she took a threatening step forward, her patience finally reaching its end.

"You already have," Faith murmured, so quietly that at first Buffy had thought that she had heard wrong.

"But..." Buffy murmured, her eyes drawn to the hands that continued to cup around Faith's torso. Concerned, Buffy watched as a stream of red seeped through Faith's tightly clasped fingers, slowly dripping down to stain the carpeting below. "Faith, I-"

"You know what I've learned from all this, B?" she interrupted, a slight grimace pulling at her lips as she slowly sagged onto the bed behind her. "Life's a gift that's gotta be given back, and you gotta take joy from its possession... it's too fucking short," she murmured, her eyes locked on the blood that seeped between her fingers, "and that's a fact. It's hard to accept and this earthly procession to final darkness is a journey done, circle completed, work of art sublime, a sweet melodic rhyme, a battle won."

"Faith," Buffy began uncertainly as tears burned at her eyes. "I.. I'm so sorry..."

"For what?" Faith asked, her eyes finally meeting Buffy's once more.

"You're bleeding-"

"It's not important. Not anymore," Faith sighed, brushing away her concern as she lifted one bloodstained hand and inspected it under the light. "You know what? It isn't the blood you share with each other that makes you family," she murmured, her hand slowly twisting as the blood dropped down to the floor. "Rather it's the blood you shed for one another that makes you family... B, they're trying to make us family," she murmured, the first sparkling of fear showing in the girl's dark eyes. "I don't want this kind of family - not for my blood."

"Your blood?" Buffy murmured.

"Maybe death is the great equalizer, the one big thing that can finally make strangers shed a tear for one another," Faith continued, as though Buffy hadn't spoken. "But I don't want strangers to shed tears for me."

As something clicked for Buffy, she looked at her sister slayer in dawning horror. "Someone's coming for you. To kill you," she murmured, finally understanding her message.

"They say that God's subtle but not malicious... maybe, but _they're_ malicious."

"Who's malicious?" Buffy demanded, reaching out to grip Faith firmly by each arm. "Who's coming for you?" she asked, her eyes blinking as an image of Faith, deathly pale, unconscious, and in a hospital bed flashed before her.

"For something to live, something must be sacrificed," Faith murmured, her voice so soft... so lost. "B, we've both sacrificed so much. I don't want to be sacrificed - please don't let them sacrifice me. I can't fight them, B, not like this," she murmured as her image flickered once again.

"The Council," Buffy murmured, realization dawning as she tried to maintain her hold on her sister slayer. "I'm not there and they need a Slayer... they're going to kill you to call the next Slayer," she murmured, her voice shaking as Faith slowly lifted her eyes to meet hers one last time.

"Don't let them sacrifice me," she murmured, "you at least owe me that. Please..." she whispered as everything faded away.


	19. Chapter 19

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 19  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

With catlike grace, Buffy leisurely began to stretch out stiff limbs, Faith's name on the tip of her tongue and a contented grin lifting her lips as she lazily opened her eyes. For the first time since she could remember, she felt warm. Not at-home-toasty-in-bed-with-Gordo warm, but a warmth that radiated from her body and fought the cool air that encompassed her - warming stiff limbs more than she could remember in a long time. It was like Heaven to awaken to such warmth, even with the cold press of wood against her cheek and the bite of the dank air on her bare skin. But the warm press against her back, the breath fanning the small hair against the nape of her neck, and the heavy arm thrown across her waist and... pulling her... close.

Gasping, Buffy froze, all thoughts of her dream fleeing her mind as her body tensed, her eyes drifting down and locking on the unfamiliar, large arm that was draped casually across her waist. Stilling, she threw back her memories, trying in vain to remember what had brought her to this situation. She remembered the Centre, she remembered the beatings, the tortures, the hell... and she remembered a chair and bindings and drugs. Everything was so fuzzy outside the pain, but she _definitely_ didn't remember this.

Moving slowly so as not to awake whoever was cuddled so intimately behind her, Buffy reached down and lifted the heavy arm, dismayed at how her arm trembled from the simple movement. Okay, so that meant some drugs in her system - something not at all unusual in the life of playing captive in the Centre. Gently she reached back and settled the large arm on the person behind her and then slowly scooted forward until she was perched on the edge of the bench, rolling off and landing lightly on her hands and feet on the floor. Ignoring the shock of the cold cement, Buffy scrambled to her feet and hurried across the small room, turning only when she could go no further, her back pressed against the cold metal door. And then, only then did she finally take in the person that she had been lying against.

"Jarod?" she murmured, her voice betraying her confusion as her eyes traced over his chin, noting the dark stubble that lined his cheeks. Shaking her head, her eyes skimmed over the hard lines of his chest, visible through the thin shirt he wore, and down to his bare feet - his clothing and posture so mimicking her own that it was obvious that he shared in her captivity. And then, her blurred memories from their capture returned... from their capture and her final kick of the programming that had been shoved down her throat for longer than she could remember. Hand lifting to her mouth, Buffy slowly felt her legs give out beneath her as she slid to the floor, numb to its coldness as tears burned her eyes. She had been so lost.. so lost for so long. It was as though while she had been under their programming... as though she had been half a person. Less than that. Her memories were clouded and vague of that time, and the only thing that really came through was the constant struggle she gave against the restraints that held her mind at bay - and the pain when she had finally broken free... thanks to Jarod. And he hadn't escaped. He hadn't run as she had asked him to... told him to.

Sighing, Buffy slowly made the short trek back across the room and settled on her knees on the floor before him, unknowingly mimicking his earlier position of hours before. Gently, she reached up and ran soft fingers over his brow and down the side of his face. Almost instantaneously brown eyes opened and focused on her face. "Jarod, what were you thinking?" she murmured, her voice soft so as not to startle him. But that effort was in vain as Jarod quickly sat up, startling Buffy herself so much that she tumbled back to land hard on her bottom on the cold floor beneath her.

"Buffy," he said, his voice a low timber as a hot flush burned in his cheeks, his eyes darting everywhere to avoid meeting her surprised gaze. "I... I'm sorry," he stuttered, rubbing his hands quickly down his arms in an attempt to warm his chilled flesh. "But your clothes... they made me... and you were cold..." he mumbled, his words causing a slow smile to lift Buffy's lips - the first smile that she had worn in quite a long time.

The sound of her soft snort caused his eyes to finally turn to her, an amused expression pulling at her lips as she gingerly stood and moved to settle lightly beside him. "It's okay, Jarod," she laughed quietly, gently leaning to the side and nudging him lightly with her shoulder. "I wasn't talking about that. If anything, I should thank you," she continued, her eyes sparkling. "This was the first time that I've been warm in a long time," she added, her expression dimming for a moment before another sly smile lifted her lips. "And it's not like I haven't been in similar positions before... oh.. on second thought," she added, a small frown pulling at her lips, "I guess that was the first time I've ever woken up beside someone before. Angel, with the whole lossage of soul, wasn't really into the whole cuddle thing... and I'm babbling - blame it on the drugs," she finished, smiling softly at Jarod's bemused expression. "But babbling? Feels good," she murmured, her eyes drifting away. "Haven't done that in awhile either... but that's not what I was asking," she finished, shaking her head curtly as she finally locked her gaze with his once more. "What are you doing here? I told you to run."

"I did," Jarod admitted, his eyes shifting away for a moment before returning to her startling green orbs, "but I couldn't just go and leave you like that. Not alone," he murmured, his voice sounding even deeper to his own ears as he gently reached out with one hand to cup her small chin. "What happened? How did you come here?" he asked, the question that he had been asking himself ever since he laid eyes on her pouring from his lips before he could stop himself.

For a moment, a thick silence fell over the room as Buffy pulled her chin free, her eyes darting around the room before finally settling on her hands which lay clasped in her lap. "I came home from patrol and found... Wonder Boy in my living room," she murmured, her voice faltering over Mr. Lyle's name. For some reason just having Jarod sitting beside her gave her strength to voice aloud her innate sarcasm that she had kept bottled within her for so long. It was almost a conscious effort to bring it out, reminding herself that she needn't fear retaliation for her smart remarks in the way of vicious kicks or even more painful beatings. Yet at the same time, she somehow realized that it would be even worse to call the man by his name. A monster such as her tormentor couldn't be called Mr. Lyle. The name was too ordinary and not nearly ruthless enough. The man was a monster, plain and simple - yet a monster that didn't deserve her respect. Sighing, Buffy slowly shook her head. The remembered pain was too near for her to be able to sort through everything yet and she knew that it would take her quite some time to finally work through everything that had happened to her - a thought alone which caused anger to surge through her veins, for it only made her feel weak. It made her feel like a victim.

"Buffy?"

Nearly seething in anger, Buffy jerked her hand away from the Pretender's, ignoring his attempts at comfort as she ground her teeth together. "They played dirty," she muttered, the words tasting foul in her mouth, "and some powerful drugs later found me here. That was..." she trailed off, her anger slipping away as she turned confused eyes to the man beside her. "Do you know what today is?" she asked, her voice sounding so young and lost that Jarod could only stare at her in silence for a moment.

"Today? I... I think it's Thursday," he murmured, watching as her expression fell even more.

"No. What day?" she persisted, ignoring the slight burning she began to feel in the corner of each eye. "What month?"

Stricken, Jarod looked away, giving her the privacy needed to angrily grind the tears from her eyes. "It's January. January 5th," he whispered, turning back only as a thick silence once more fell upon the room. Concerned, Jarod turned back and watched the soft crown of her head, her eyes focused intently upon the hands in her lap.

"I didn't know," she finally whispered, tearing her eyes away to meet Jarod's once again. "January... that night was over five months ago," she muttered, her eyes turning fiery once again. "I've lost five months of my life to those bastards..." she began, only to have her angry tirade die away as a look of shame covered her features, her small hand unconsciously lifting to her lips as horrified eyes turned to Jarod. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, her anger turning on herself.

"For what?" Jarod asked, caught up in the whirlwind of her intense emotions as he looked at her in confusion.

"Here I am complaining about losing five months of my life to this... place," she responded, waving absently to the room around them, "when you've lost almost your entire life. I mean, even with my shortened lifespan, five months is a hell of a lot shorter than-"

"You have nothing to apologize for," Jarod cut in, his voice firm as he caught her chin in his hand once again, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You had nothing to do with what they've already done to me and you have every reason to be upset about what they've done..." he trailed off, his voice faltering as he caught something in her eyes that he hadn't noticed before. Quieting, Jarod felt his brow crinkle in confusion as he stared into her eyes. There was something there that hadn't been there those seven months ago when they first met. Something that went beyond the horrors that he knew she had faced while being imprisoned in the Centre. "Buffy, what is it?" he asked, his question surprising her as she tried to turn away, only to find that she didn't have the strength to - physically nor emotionally. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked again as he thought back over her hurried explanation, pausing over her vagaries. "You said they played dirty... how?"

And in an instant, the tears that she had been studiously avoiding pooled in her eyes and then dripped unnoticed down her pale cheeks, leaving wet and salty trails. "Mom," she whispered, and with that one word, Jarod finally recognized the look that he saw in her eyes. A look that he had only really seen in one other place before: Miss Parker's eyes after her mother's murder.

"Buffy," he murmured, his voice cracking as he quickly pulled her against him, holding her tight as she buried her head against chest, hot tears soaking his shirt as sobs rocked her thin frame. And so they remained, for how long neither knew, the tears pouring down Buffy's cheeks as the harsh sound of heart-rending sobs echoed in the small room. Only there was a stark difference between this display of grief and the one that caused her break-down upon her arrival at the Centre: this time, she wasn't alone. She wasn't alone with her tears and the desperate agony, that after all these months, hadn't quelled. It couldn't. Her pain was as fresh as it had been all those months ago, for in the desolate hell that was the Centre, there was no place for grieving nor for healing. There was too much pain, day by day, for anyone to possibly progress down the normal path of healing. But now, at least in this moment, she wasn't alone.

"I'm sorry," Jarod murmured as Buffy's sobs died away, the small girl still held tight in his embrace. "I'm so sorry," he whispered again, his head bent low as he brushed a small kiss against the top of her golden head. "It's all my fault... they never would have known that you existed if it wasn't for me," he continued, squeezing her tight against him before she slowly pulled away, her red-rimmed eyes locking on his. Shaking his head, Jarod slowly bit his lip. "Here I'm supposed to help people - to make amends for my past... not destroy the lives of-"

Stilling his words with a slim finger against his lips, Buffy shook her head. "We both already have too many things in our lives to feel guilt for," she murmured, her pain filled gaze turning away from his briefly as she thought of both Angel and her mother. "Don't add to it," she instructed, her gaze filling with resolve as she turned back to the Pretender. "Neither of us could have predicted this."

Closing his eyes briefly, Jarod slowly began to nod his head. "We're both going to get out of here, somehow," he vowed, his words dying as the harsh grating of metal on metal echoed in the room. Startled, both he and Buffy quickly pulled away from each other, standing together and facing the door as it swung open to reveal Lyle, his suit pressed and neat as always with a team of sweepers flanking his sides. "Can you fight?" Jarod murmured, his lips barely moving as he risked a glance to the girl beside him. The presence of Lyle promised no good thing for either the Slayer nor the Pretender, and if they were going to escape, Jarod knew that there would be no time like the present.

The slow shake of Buffy's head was the only answer that Jarod needed. The drugs, he knew, were probably still in her system. She had nothing. They had nothing.

"I hope we're not interrupting," Mr. Lyle spoke as a wide smile lifted the man's lips.

"Even if you were," Buffy broke in before she could stop herself, "it's not as though you'd recognize what you were seeing." Smiling slyly, she slowly cocked one hip to the side, her arms crossed before her as she look him up and down with a critical eye. "From the looks of it, I'm guessing that you haven't seen any of that kind of action in a _long_ time."

For a moment, a different kind of glint sparkled in Mr. Lyle's eyes as he took in the Slayer's pose, his eyes then skipping over to the Pretender, who was as obviously shocked as he was by the girl's words, and then back again. "And here I thought we got all that spunk beaten out of you months ago," he muttered, his eyes flickering from the Slayer to the Pretender. "And I guess that we you have you to thank for that, Jarod," he continued, his eyes boring into Jarod's. "Months of behavior modification down the drain leaving us back at square one... I guess we'll just have to beat some sense back into you both."

"I'd like to see you try," came Buffy's quick retort as she dropped down into a defensive position. "You cowards may have taken my strength, but you can't take three years of training!"

"We'll see about that," Lyle muttered, his expression dark as he stepped back to allow a flood of sweepers past.

Without hesitation, Buffy quickly launched herself at a couple of sweepers that were headed in her direction, idly noting that Jarod had done the same. As the first one reached for her, Buffy ducked beneath his grasp and sent a sharp elbow into his solar plexus. Grunting at the flare of pain that brief contact caused, she then ducked back and managed to land a couple of good punches before another sweeper arrived behind her, bodily lifting her and slamming her face first into the cold cement wall. Crying out, Buffy felt one of his beefy hands seize around her right wrist before he painfully twisted it up and back behind her. Crying out, Buffy struggled against him, but found herself effectively pinned. "So.. much for training," she muttered, wincing as the man's grip tightened, twisting her arm so far that she was sure it was going to snap.

Hearing her cry, Jarod quickly renewed his efforts, managing to land a right hook across a sweeper's chin and sending him to the floor. Turning, he then launched himself at Buffy's captor, bringing his fists down like a hammer on the back of the man's neck and sending him to the ground in an unconscious heap. As Buffy sagged before him, he quickly pushed her forward and then backed them into a corner, shielding her with his larger frame as his eyes narrowed on the few sweepers that were regaining their feet and their friends who watched his actions with bemused expressions.

"Like you could protect her," Mr. Lyle laughed, catching Jarod's attention from his relatively safe position by the open doorway. "Like either of you could protect the other," he added, catching the slayer's eyes as she tried to push Jarod from in front of her. It was obvious that she wasn't used to being protected, but in her state, she couldn't even manage to shift the Pretender from his position in front of her.

"Leave her alone," Jarod whispered, his voice sounding hoarse as he absently wiped away a smear of blood from a busted lip. "You've got me now - just let her go."

"And why would I do that when I can have you both?" Lyle demanded, arching his eyebrow at the two.

"I'll do your simulations if you just let her go," Jarod said, forcing the words past his lips as Buffy began to struggle even harder against him, her protests falling on deaf ears.

Smiling, Mr. Lyle nodded his head slowly, his eyes never leaving Jarod's. "And who's to say that you won't do your simulations if I don't?" he finally asked, a wicked grin splitting his lips as a group of sweepers rushed forward. Two of the largest grabbed an arm each and quickly dragged Jarod away from the wall, grimacing as they tried to avoid his frantic struggles. Meanwhile, two others jumped forward in Jarod's absence and seized each of Buffy's arms, catapulting her from her corner.

"Let me _go!_" Buffy yelled, grabbing the arms that were holding her and using their support to arch her back and kick up with both legs, just as Giles had taught, a bared foot catching each man in the face and sending all three crashing to the ground. Grunting, Buffy hobbled to her feet just as two others moved in, imprisoning her arms once more.

"Get her feet!" Lyle ordered as the two downed sweepers quickly stumbled forward, grabbing a leg each and suspending the slayer in the air between the four men. Even then, the girl's struggles didn't stop as she bucked and writhed in between them, her movements just as frantic and furious as those of the Pretender who was already being led down the long hall. And now for the real fun to begin...


	20. Chapter 20

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 20  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

In the dank area known as Sublevel 28, there were none to hear the cries nor see the struggles of the Centre's two captives. There was no one to lay witness to their frantic efforts as the two were both led and carried down the long, dark hallway and forced into a new room - a new room that sported a pair of heavy chains suspended from the high ceiling. Chains that ended in two pairs of heavy, medieval-looking manacles.

First came Jarod as he was drug into the room, his cries landing on deaf ears as his captors strained to hold the struggling Pretender. And before he could so much as utter another word, another sweeper moved in and landed a vicious punch to Jarod's midsection, causing him to bend over, going limp as he struggled to regain his lost breath. Taking advantage of his momentary stillness, his captors secured the manacles tightly around his wrists while somebody else pushed a small button that caused the lengths of chain to pull taut and then lift up, pulling the man straight until his feet barely grazed the cold floor.

Then came the Slayer, the girl bucking and twisting in her captors' hands, the four men struggling to maintain their hold on her small arms and ankles. But with four to one odds, and Buffy as weak as she was, she didn't stand a chance. As soon as Jarod was secured his two sweepers quickly came to their comrades' assistance, locking her hands in the large manacles and quickly suspending her from the floor as well. Wincing as the metal pulled at her skin Buffy quickly reached up and seized the chain that suspended her, her weak and quivering muscles complaining loudly as she attempted to lift herself - something that would have been no problem without the drugs that polluted her system - and quickly launched out with her feet, sending one sweeper careening away from her. But even as she had the satisfaction of seeing the man tumble into the others, she knew such an action wouldn't be repeated as her strength fled her, her grip on the chain slipping as she tumbled down, unable to stop the small cry from escaping her lips as the unforgiving metal bit into her skin - stopping her quick fall.

Wincing, Buffy blinked away her tears of pain and struggled uselessly as two sweepers flanked her on either side, easily holding her still as Lyle stopped before her. "Okay," Buffy puffed, struggling to catch her breath, "I knew that you were a sick son of a bitch, but I never figured on the kink-" she continued, only stopping as the fist against the side of her face cracked her head to the side. Grimacing, Buffy slowly turned back and met Lyle's stony face. Smiling sweetly, she gently licked at the blood that dripped down her chin and then spit the red fluid into his face.

Pausing, Lyle slowly stepped back, lifting a small white handkerchief to his face, wiping away the bloody spittle. "I promised you a lesson," he said, his words even as he nodded his head, another sweeper moving in to take his place as Willie joined him at his side. "And I never break a promise," he continued as the man lashed out, his fist connecting solidly with Buffy's stomach, the sweepers behind her preventing her from swinging away.

"Leave her alone!" Jarod quickly protested, his cries lost over the sounds of the sweeper's fist connecting with Buffy's body.

But to her credit, Buffy didn't cry out. Sure, she got an even bigger bloody lip thanks to her teeth clamping down on her lips to prevent her scream of pain, but she held it in. During the months of her imprisonment in the Centre, the one thing she had learned to control was her cries of pain. That was the one thing that she still had some control over, the one thing that she refused to give Lyle: the satisfaction of hearing her scream. Grimacing, eyes glazed, Buffy wearily lifted her head and locked eyes with Lyle, a small and bloody grin lifting her lips and showing pink-stained teeth. "And so continues..." she wheezed, struggling to regain her lost breath, "another day in the Centre. Didn't your Mom ever teach you not to hit a girl?" she asked, her eyes sparkling as a thick silence fell over the room. "Especially one that's just itching for the chance to hit you back?" she prodded, twisting in her captors' hold, ignoring the bite of metal into her flesh as she eyed Lyle's purpling nose.

"My mother was never really much of a mother," Lyle shot back, a slow smile lifting his lips as he slipped his hand down into his suit pocket, "probably nothing like yours... was," he added, watching as the girl's face tightened into a look of such hatred this his grin only widened.

"So what? Are we up for another game of Beat the Buffy?" she queried, her voice stiff as she nodded to the sweepers that grouped around them. "Because if so, what's up with the spectators?" she asked, nodding in Jarod's direction and then back towards the open door behind him.

Turning slightly, Mr. Lyle nodded at Mr. Raines before turning back to Buffy with a smile. "No, I thought up a better... game, for today," he murmured as he withdrew a small needle from his suit pocket, the weak light glinting off the glass tube.

"Hmm, drugs," Buffy acknowledged, her tone bored. "You guys are turning me into a full-out junkie! And here my daddy always told me that drugs were bad."

"They are," Mr. Lyle concurred as he closed the distance between them, nodding for the sweepers behind her to hold her still, "yet we appreciate your help in testing them out all the same. Especially this one," he added, noting that he had Jarod's complete attention from just a few feet away. "You see, this one is actually one of Jarod's inventions," he continued, throwing a wink in the Pretender's direction. "I don't think he intended it to be used this way, but I've been told that it's a great persuasive tool."

"No," Jarod broke in, his eyes widening as he apparently realized exactly what the drug was that Lyle held. "No," he repeated again, his head shaking violently from side to side as he began to struggle against his chains.

Surprised, Buffy felt her first real tang of fear as she took in Jarod's severe reaction to whatever drug Lyle was holding. "So we're in agreement," she said quickly, her eyes returning to Lyle's. "Drugs, not of the good. And besides," she added, a frown pulling at her lips as Lyle continued to advance on her position, "Jarod hasn't been here in what.. four years? Five? That means old drugs. Old drugs are _definitely_ not of the good. Probably all expired and stuff," she rambled, her eyes widening as they followed the path of the needle as it approached her. "Hey!" she suddenly cried as rough hands were tangled in her blonde tresses, yanking her head to the side and exposing her scarred neck.

"_No!_" Jarod roared, twisting violently in his manacles, oblivious to the damage that he was causing himself as the needle sunk into Buffy's neck, Lyle quickly emptying the fluid into her system. And as the needle emptied out and Lyle stepped away, Jarod felt as though he had been deflated, his anger leaving him as quickly as it came as he sagged in the chains, Buffy's head released and her eyes quickly turning to his.

"Well hey, that's not so-" she began as her voice quickly died away, a tremble going through her limbs as her eyes closed briefly. "Uh oh," she murmured, seconds before her body convulsed, every muscle in her body tightening and going rigid as it felt as though liquid fire was pouring through her veins.

"Buffy," Jarod whispered, his voice catching in his throat as Buffy's eyes locked with his own, such anguish showing as a piercing scream ripped from her throat. And from that second on, it was as though the scream never ended. In stunned horror, Jarod and the others watched as Buffy writhed in her bindings, the screams tearing from her throat until she could scream no longer, her body convulsing and blood streaming down her arms from her mangled wrists. Throughout it all, Jarod couldn't look away. Refused to look away. This was his fault. The drug was his creation, built as a way to coerce enemy soldiers to reveal what they knew... thrown out, or so he thought, because the drug worked too well. More as a form of torture than persuasion. And the drug hadn't been thrown out. It had been kept and remade. Remade into this.

It seemed like it was hours later before the last convulsion ended, leaving Buffy hanging limply in her chains, her breathing ragged and her eyes glassy. For a moment more, silence reigned as everyone continued to watch the girl in stunned silence. Apparently, no one else had seen the actual results of the drug. And then, Mr. Lyle broke the silence as he waved a couple of sweepers forward. "Get her down," he ordered, his voice carrying an emotion that Jarod didn't recognize. At first, he thought it could be horror that he heard, but as Jarod got a look at Lyle's bright eyes, he realized that what he heard was excitement. A sick kind of perverse excitement at the horrors he had just inflicted. "Take her away," he continued, watching as the guards began to drag the Slayer's limp body from the room.

"Where.. where are you taking her?" Jarod demanded, his own voice hoarse from screaming. From screaming for them to stop the needless torture.

Almost absently, Mr. Lyle turned his attention away from the open door and frowned at the Pretender. "Well, since my methods of modification have been proven ineffective, I've decided to allow Mr. Raines to have a go at her," he said, a slow smile lifting his lips as Jarod's eyes turned and locked with the doctor. "I'm sure we all remember his past... successes, in these areas."

Just as Lyle knew it would, his words brought a fresh wave of horror to Jarod as Raines nodded once, a small smile lifting his lips, before he walked away, his wheeled tank squeaking behind him. "No," Jarod whispered, his mind's eye flashing to the little boy that grew up to become Angelo: a shell of a man that was ruined by the good doctor. His mind forever lost. "No," he whispered again, shaking his head in protest as he thought next to the little boy that he had saved from a similar fate just years before. And now, his mind brought forth the picture of Buffy's smiling face - the fierce fire that burned in her eyes and the strength that she possessed. After Raines was through with her, the strength would remain but Jarod knew that the fire that burned in her eyes would be lost. Her eyes would be as dead as when he had encountered her in Michigan - only this time, there would be no flicker of recognition. There would be nothing as Buffy Summers would be lost forever, leaving them only with the Slayer. "No, Lyle, you can't do this!" he quickly pleaded, doing something he never thought he'd ever do: beg to the man that cost him his younger brother. "You have to stop him. Please, you have to-"

"Jarod, Jarod, Jarod," Lyle murmured, a delighted smile aimed at the Pretender. "You shouldn't waste your time worrying about her," he murmured as he nodded to Willie behind him. Without a word, the man disappeared out the door. "You have yourself to worry about," he continued as the tall man reappeared at his side, a familiar car battery in hand.

* * *

The sublevel was dark and silent, and as Miss Parker's heels clicked on the hard cement floor, she couldn't help the childish thought that she was the only living person left... especially in this hell. Ignoring the shudder that swept through her lean frame, Miss Parker lifted her head high, her short skirt swishing around her long legs as she moved forward as though she belonged there - a look that had taken her very far through the years. With a reputation that spoke of the cold, impregnable ice queen, who would dare to question anything that she did - save those that really mattered, she thought, as images of her father, brother, and Mr. Raines flashed before her eyes. That, and the image of the Pretender that had been her life's pursuit for the past four years. A pursuit that was now over.

Frowning slightly, Miss Parker slowed and then stopped before a ridiculously large metal door, two large sweepers standing before the impressive structure. Smiling wryly, Miss Parker's eyes skipped over the massive door towards the heavily armed guards. It was evident that her brother was taking no chances in allowing his prize to escape again - especially not while under his watch. The Triumvirate could be forgiving of the mistake while under their father's protection the first time... but a second? A repeat mistake? That would be deadly.

"Open it," she ordered, her voice brooking no room for argument as the two hastily sped to heed her command. To do otherwise was another way to invite deadly action in the Centre... talk about a hostile work environment, she thought wryly as the door opened before her on well-oiled, silent hinges. Nodding, Miss Parker quickly stepped past and entered the dimly lit room beyond, ignoring her unease as the door sealed shut behind her. Stilling, Miss Parker allowed her eyes to adjust to the lighting, taking in the small, cold and dingy room with a cot and a toilet against the wall providing the only relief to the monotony - a small cot that contained a large, unmoving form.

"Jarod?" she asked, slowly moving forward and stopping as the body slowly turned on the cot until dark eyes met her own - eyes that were glazed with pain. And as he shifted into the light, Miss Parker finally got her first good look at the Pretender since their separation the day before. And from the looks of it, Jarod hadn't been having a good time of it. Forcibly, Miss Parker controlled her horror at seeing his condition: the meager, ripped clothing, the blood dried and caked over his body, bruises covering more skin than she could see, and what looked to be burn marks covering portions of skin that remained open to the cool air.

"Miss Parker," Jarod returned, his voice low and even while his breath whistled between clenched teeth. From the sounds of it, there had to be a broken rib or two beneath the smatterings of bruises. Lyle apparently had a lesson in mind upon the Pretender's return: a lesson that he had tried to apply before on Jarod's previous return. Evidently, he thought a stronger lesson was in order.

Ignoring the obvious pain that her old friend was in, Miss Parker straightened - her eyes cold and empty. "I've come to say goodbye," she spoke, her voice clipped and even. "I'm leaving the Centre today. For good," she added, watching as something flickered in Jarod's expressive brown eyes. She knew that he was thinking something, plotting something - but his silence unnerved her. As the silence stretched, Miss Parker met his gaze evenly before finally turning away. She didn't know what she had expected - what she had hoped for by coming to see Jarod - but she knew that she was disappointed by this encounter. Maybe the unknown thing that she was waiting for was something that was never meant to come.

"You can't," Jarod finally whispered, halting her hand when it was inches from hitting the door to alert the guards. Pausing, she slowly turned, her eyes raking over his form questioningly. "First you have to do something to help," he whispered, his eyes begging her to listen to his words and to see his reason.

Surprised, Miss Parker slowly crossed the distance between them, pausing when she was still a good foot away, arms crossed tightly across her chest. "I don't know what you're expecting, but you're wrong," she countered, unable to stop the snort at his gall. "This is what I've been waiting for for the last four years: to return you and finally be free of this hellhole!"

"I'm not talking about me," Jarod returned evenly, his voice quiet as his eyes locked with her own. "You know what your brother is doing is wrong," he continued, his voice insistent in its intensity, belying his beaten appearance. "This is the exact thing that your mother fought against. How can you sit there and let an innocent girl be tortured like this? Changed?" he persisted, his voice cracking as his eyes slowly slid away. "How can you let her be taken away from her family? You have me now. You have your freedom. Use it to help her... your mother would have," he murmured, his voice dying away as Miss Parker's stony eyes locked with his, her facade never once breaking.

"Goodbye, Jarod," she murmured, her voice as hard as steel as she turned and walked away, quickly rapping on the door and escaping into the wide hallway beyond. Then, without once looking back at the man that had become such a focal point in her life for the past four years, Miss Parker continued to walk away, her head held high and the clicking of her shoes on the hard floor the only sound to be heard. But just as she was to reach a junction in the long hallway, a door clicked open beside her, releasing a young lab technician who scurried past her, leaving the door ajar behind him.

Pausing, Miss Parker allowed her eyes to skip to the doorway for the briefest of moments, a battle of will and curiosity taking place within her before the curious cat won out. Checking to make sure that the hall remained clear, she moved to the door on the toes of her feet, quieting the click of her heels as she eased the door open a little further and slipped within. Wincing, Miss Parker lifted a hand to block out the bright, sterile light of the room as she moved forward... sterile being the right impression, she realized, as her eyes adjusted to the light and she took in the white-washed walls and beeping machines. It was like she had stepped from the tomb-like Centre sublevel into a mini-infirmary.

Confused, Miss Parker put aside her questions as she heard movement to her right. Turning, she felt her gaze lock with a pair of hazy green eyes, dark lashes a stark contrast to her pale skin. Unable to stop herself, Miss Parker slowly moved forward until she was standing beside the narrow table, taking in the many straps that bound the girl tightly to the table - the girl that sported just as many bruises and contusions as Jarod. "Buffy?" she asked, her voice soft as she forced her eyes to meet those of the girl. "That's your name, isn't it?" she prompted, unnerved by the girl's direct gaze. But her question was answered by a thick silence and confused, she turned and noticed the IV that was taped to her wrist, pumping in a large bag of clear fluids. Closing her eyes against the sight, she was about to turn away when a small voice stopped her.

"Too late.." she whispered, her words mumbled as her eyes flickered, blinked for a moment. "Too late for me," she continued, a small pink tongue peeking between her bloody lip to moisten it. "No help... me... but Faith... need Faith..."

"Who needs faith?" Parker asked, her brow creasing in confusion.

"Coming for Faith... Giles... save Faith," she murmured before her eyes slowly slipped shut, the drugs obviously having finally kicked in.

Frowning, Miss Parker stared at the girl for a moment longer before turning away, slipping from the room and towards the nearby elevator shaft as the her words turned over and over again in her mind, countering Jarod's final plea. Sighing, she tried to force the thoughts from her mind as she ascended out of darkness and into the light of the grand foyer of the Centre. On swift feet she started across the lobby towards the door... towards her freedom. Everything was prepared for her departure. Jarod had been a final, spur of the moment visit, on her way out.

"Miss Parker."

Startled from her thoughts, Miss Parker eyed the two men who awaited her by the large glass doors. For some reason, she wasn't surprised to see them there. After all, they would be the only ones that she would really miss leaving behind. "Sydney," she acknowledged as she stopped before the older man, "Broots."

"We couldn't let you leave without saying our goodbyes," the psychiatrist said quietly, his accented voice betraying his foreign origins as he gently clasped her hands within his own. "You will be missed," he added before he gently, and forcefully, pulled her forward into a gentle hug. Surprised, Miss Parker was about to pull away when soft words were whispered in her ear. "Never look back. Be happy and free - for us all," he urged before slowly pulling away.

Nodding, Miss Parker returned Sydney's gentle smile before turning her head to the thin man beside him. "Well, Miss P," he began, shuffling nervously from foot to foot as he eyed his hands.

Surprising them both, Miss Parker reached past his nervous bumbling and pulled the computer technician against her, locking her arms tight around his neck. Shocked, Broots could do nothing but stand there in her arms, as still as a statue as Sydney hid a laugh behind a forced cough behind him. But, like Miss Parker, as he was about to turn away, her soft breath against his ear stilled his movements.

"I need one more favor before I go..."


	21. Chapter 21

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 21  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

"-and then I pulled the trigger and woosh!" Willow exclaimed, her hands flying energetically in the air as she gestured wildly around them, "out went the little pointy arrow and boom, in it goes, right in the eye!" she laughed, clapping her hands together. "And then the demon was just sploosh as it went all gooey on my shoes!"

Shouldering the heavy bag, Xander made his way through the familiar courtyard, nodding in all of the appropriate places as Willow continued to babble at his side. It had been another long night of patrol and Xander felt his muscles ache at the reminder. Oz was still out of commission with a mangled ankle and the bump on Giles' head from the night before was nasty enough for the two teens to insist on doing the patrol as a tag team that night. They didn't need another close call like last week. They didn't know what they would do if they lost Giles - even if there wasn't a Slayer to watch, they needed his expertise and guidance now more than ever... that and they couldn't handle another loss. Not again. "Uh, check," Xander quickly added, noticing a pause in Willow's excited tirade, "icky goo mess."

"You can say _that_ again," Willow laughed, wrinkling her nose as she paused long enough to inspect said shoes. "I'm still trying to get that other demon mess out of my dorm carpet from _last_ month!" she added, sighing dramatically as they neared the familiar wooden door. "But still, big old check in the demon slayage department! And ooh! No new addition to the injured players list!" she stated proudly as she swept inside, not even bothering to knock. Sometimes she wondered if Giles ever became annoyed with this fact, but then quickly pushed it aside at the thought that Giles had other, more important things to worry about than his lack of privacy. "And in... the..." she trailed off, her eyes locking on the finger that was being held to her boyfriend's lips from his place on the couch. Nodding slowly, Willow continued into the room, Xander closing the door firmly behind him as she crossed over to join Oz on the couch. "What's going on?" she whispered, scooting over to make room for her best friend.

"Council conversation," Oz whispered back, nodding towards the kitchen. "Very important-"

"And I don't give a damn about your meetings or deliberations!" Giles' angry voice rang out, cutting off the rest of Oz's words as all eyes turned to the kitchen, just able to catch glimpses of his furious form as he paced the length of the other room. After another pause, during which all three teens exchanged small frowns, the tirade began anew. "Well you bloody well better make an effort to find Buffy Summers if you ever want to have a Slayer again! Without her, you have nothing. Nothing!" he finished as the sound of the phone being smashed on the console echoed in the room, quickly followed by the sound of said phone being hurled against the wall, pieces of plastic and electronics flying in all directions.

"Well _that_ was helpful," Oz murmured, his expression blank as Giles stalked into the room.

"Giles," Xander added, his voice taking on the tone of a disappointed parent scolding a small child, "that's the third phone this month! You really need to learn to control these-"

"Those bloody pillocks!" he hissed, ignoring their words as he abruptly stopped by his desk, his eyes staring at nothing as the rim of his glasses dangled from one hand, the other angrily massaging his aching head. "How can they not understand the need to search for Buffy? Without her, and Faith in a coma-

"Not to mention psychotic-"

"-there _is_ no slayer!" Giles finished as though Xander hadn't offered his own side-commentary.

"Those Brits," the teen continued, attempting vainly to scoff at the Watcher, "all tweed and-"

"Giles," Willow interrupted, sharply elbowing her friend before turning her large eyes to the aging man, "they gotta realize our problem soon. I mean, yeah, we're doing alright with the regular demons and vampires, what with the GI Joes, but the second we get another apocalypse looming... well, they'll understand what we're saying then, right?"

"Yeah, but Wills," Xander replied, answering for everyone as he finally took a ride on the reality train. "By the time we catch wind of another doomsday... whatever help the Council can provide won't be in time to stop it."

"Xander's right," Giles agreed, pausing briefly at the idiosyncrasies of the words he just spoke. Shrugging, he continued on. "The world needs a Slayer, and with Buffy missing and Faith... well, Buffy is the only option that we have right now. If the Council were to begin searching for her now, or send aid here to Sunnydale so that we could search..." he trailed off, realizing the hopelessness of his own words.

"Giles, what if she's... what if she's-" Willow murmured, unable to finish her thought as all of her earlier mirth disappeared under a thick wave of despair, tears burning in her eyes.

"She's alive," Giles interrupted, his voice firm as a small smile lifted his lips. "Buffy isn't anything if not strong. Whatever she's going through wherever... she will persevere," he stated, his voice containing such surety that no one dared contradict his words, even if they had heart to. "And in the meantime, we continue the slaying. We fight the good fight like Buffy would want us to."

"And rub in the total amount of demon ass that we've successfully kicked and beaten into a bloody pulp," Xander added, a small grin lifting his lips as he picked up a small notepad and pen from the coffee table before him. "Let's see, that's one demon for Wills and two vampires for me," he said, the soft scratching of the pencil against paper the only sounds in the room. "And that brings the total up to-"

"Uh... you're keeping tally of the injuries, aren't you?" Oz broke in, a soft grin playing around his lips. "'Cause that should probably count for something."

"Yeah, those are negative points," Xander explained as he flashed the notebook in the bassist's direction. "Depending on the severity, that's how many points are deducted. For example, Giles lost three vampires and one demon from that broken rib last month-"

"Three vampires _and_ a demon?" Giles interrupted quickly, his voice indignant as he promptly took the notepad from the teen's hand. "Well, I think that's a bit extreme, don't you?" he asked, his eyes raking over the information as Willow threw a grateful smile in Xander and Oz's direction. Leave it to the two of them to always manage to find the sunshine in whatever bleak and desolate times they found themselves in. Especially Xander. He was the one with the witty and ill-timed jokes in the face of death. "And _really_," Giles added, oblivious to the gang's amusement, "Xander only lost one demon and _one_ vampire for his concussion last week! I think this tally is rigged!"

"Maybe," Xander admitted with a small smile, "but since mine is the only accurate tally that we have going, I guess that Buffy will be none the wiser when she gets back!"

"Apparently, you're forgetting that I'm a Watcher," Giles interrupted, his own tone smug as he lifted an eyebrow at the youth. "Do the words, 'Watcher's Diary' ring any bells? The very nature of the Watcher's diaries are to-"

"And here we go," Willow whispered, unable to keep the small smile from her lips as she shifted slightly on the large couch until she was leaning against Oz's side. Her eyes wearily fluttering shut as the sound of Giles' lecture washed over her tired body. At least some things never changed, no matter how horrific the event.

* * *

With practiced ease, Miss Parker slowly made her way through the crowded park, the sounds of laughing children greeting her ears as her heeled boots crunched on the freshly fallen snow. It was a beautiful day, with the sun glinting down through the bare branches of the trees, hot enough to warm her face while the air still contained the sharp bite of winter, preventing the snow from melting from beneath her. It was the perfect kind of day for the children that littered the park - the foot of snow that had fallen overnight giving them a free day to play and enjoy the winter wonderland - albeit a bit late for the Christmas season. Yet while the park was crawling with children, not many others graced the wooded land. Despite the heavy snowfall, the rest of the world continued on for those who had to work for a living. Currently, that class of working American didn't include the tall woman who made her way over to a single bench that bordered the trees, a sole person its occupant.

Taking one last check to see that she hadn't been followed, or to ensure that those that joined them in the park weren't of the dark and shady variety, Miss Parker slid onto the bench, her long coat gathering around her as she casually sidled up to the man beside her. "What do you have for me, Broots?"

"I... I hope you understand how dangerous this was-"

"You weren't caught, were you?" she quickly demanded, her eyes boring into his watery hazel eyes. "Lyle doesn't know what you were looking for?"

"I don't even know what I was looking for," Broots countered, his lips tilting down in a small frown. "If you trust me enough to search for information about some girl out in California, to think you'd trust me enough to tell me _why_. Or to tell Sydney-"

"I don't want any more people knowing about this then they already do," Miss Parker cut in with an impatient wave, her eyes returning to the sight of the children playing around them, blissfully ignorant of the darkness that encroached upon their world. "Now did you find anything or not?"

Sighing, Broots slowly nodded his head, his shaking hands lifting a small satchel onto his lap. "You're lucky that your girl has such an unusual name. I found high school records of a Buffy Summers in Sunnydale, California," he explained slowly. "She was a mediocre student with a lot of unexplained absences, detentions and the like - but her SATs were incredible-"

"Giving me something I can use, here," Miss Parker interrupted, shaking her head curtly.

"Right," Broots sighed, almost wishing that she hadn't asked this final favor of him. He wasn't stupid and it was too easy to put two and two together from what he had found. And personally, he didn't like what four was telling him. Not at all. And even more so, he didn't want Miss Parker getting messed up in it all - not when she was finally free of it. Free of them. "I... I also found this," Broots stammered, his hands shaking as he withdrew a single newspaper article from within, his eyes dancing around the park.

Nodding, Miss Parker accepted the clipped paper and stared at a grainy picture of large pile of smoking ruins. "What am I looking at?" she asked, her eyes skimming the headline: Apparent Arson Rocks A Small Californian Town.

"On August 18th neighbors reported a fire at 1496 Revello Drive in Sunnydale, California," Broots explained, glancing at the notes that he held in his shaking hands. "Police and firefighters responded but were too late to save the house."

"And the owner?"

"Joyce Summers, divorced, single mother who owned an art gallery in town - mother of Buffy Summers," he quickly supplied before a slight grimace broke through his fright at their clandestine meeting. "The police found one body in the ruins-"

"Joyce Summers?" Miss Parker guessed, her voice soft as her eyes were drawn to the ruins.

"Yeah... according to the autopsy report, Ms. Summers died of multiple gunshot wounds to the chest before the fire was started..."

As Broots voice droned on, Miss Parker felt tears burn at the corners of her eyes.

_As the gunshots rang out, Miss Parker surged forward, her small feet carrying her as fast as she could towards the elevator. But before she could reach her destination, large hands grabbed her and lifted her small body up, carrying away from the elevator and away from the place where she had just left her mother._

_"Mommy! No!" Miss Parker screamed, her voice echoing in the Centre's halls, the cries of a little girl who's life would never again be the same._

Miss Parker had her mother torn away from her when she was just a child, brutally shot and killed in the place where she had worked. Killed for no other reason than because she was a good person who wanted to help people... who wanted to take her and Jarod away from the Centre. And now, to hear that Buffy's mother had been killed in the same fashion, for no other reason than to secure Buffy and take her back to the Centre... it made her sick. Even more so as she realized, without a doubt in her mind, that it was her brother that had pulled the trigger that had ended the life of Joyce Summers. It was her brother that had ruined Buffy's life and taken away something that all children should have - that none should be without: their mother.

"Buffy Summers has been officially declared missing... but the file was closed on her months ago. She's presumed dead," Broots continued, finally regaining Miss Parker's attention as his eyes met her own. "Miss Parker, what are you going to do? You're free now. You should forget this and-"

"Don't you think that I've forgotten and ignored enough?" Miss Parker interrupted with a rare smile - one tinged with sadness as she gently folded the newspaper clipping and slipped it into her coat pocket. There would be time enough later to read the full article. For now, she had all the information that she needed. Deep down, she realized that she had known what would come next from the instant that Jarod's words had left his mouth. She had known that he was right all along. She had just needed this final shove in the right direction. It was time for her to start making amends for her own mistakes... for the things that she had chosen to ignore. It was time to live up to the legacy that her mother had left her.

"Miss Parker?"

"I'm going to make things right," she murmured, slowly standing and brushing away invisible creases in her pants. "Tell Sydney... tell him not to worry about me," she added, turning and smiling awkwardly at the man that stood before her. She had been horrible to him during their years together at the Centre. Horrible in ways that he had never reciprocated. He had always been there for her when she needed him most. "And Broots," she added, gently catching his hand in her own as he turned to walk away, "thank you."

Blushing fiercely, Broots began to stutter away her words when she gently pulled him and hugged him again - the second time in his life - and both within the past few days.

"Thank you for everything," she murmured before releasing him and stepping away. "Maybe we'll meet again someday," she added over her shoulder as she hurried across the small park.

"Be... be careful!" Broots managed to squeak, his voice breaking mid-sentence as she continued across the sun-lit paths, a single gloved hand waving away his concern. "Please be careful, Miss P... I don't think you understand what you're really getting into."

But whatever fears the computer technician held for her, Miss Parker pushed them aside as she withdrew her small cell phone from her deep jacket pocket. Lifting the device, she quickly punched in a number by memory, a determined frown pulling at her lips as she lifted the phone to her ear. As it began to ring, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever see either Broots or Sydney again. The path that she was choosing was a dangerous one - she wasn't deluding herself on that. She could only hope that somehow she managed to make things right before her brother learned of her meddling. She knew that he wouldn't hesitate when it came to protecting his place in the Centre... when it came to protecting his favorite projects.

"Yes, I need to book a flight," Miss Parker murmured, her voice brisk. "The closest that you can get me to Sunnydale, California."


	22. Chapter 22

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 22  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

As a brisk wind tore at the ends of her long coat, Miss Parker stalked across the moonlit grounds, alternately cursing the soft ground as her three-inch heels sunk into the grass while angrily asking herself over and over again what in the hell she was doing in a cemetery at this time of night. It wasn't as though she was really confused as to how she ended up there. That trail of logic, if you could call it that, was simple enough. Instead, it was this newfound desire to make right what her family had made wrong in the first place that was really throwing her for a spin. With a past job history that included quite a long and successful stint as a cleaner, she was accustomed to cleaning up other people's messes - just not usually messes that included her own family's mistakes... and mistakes that could easily land her a nice, grassy plot in aforementioned graveyard.

Sighing, Miss Parker came to a stop, errantly brushing a silky strand of dark hair from where it came loose from her sleek do. Who was she kidding? She stopped looking sleek and elegant on the day that she left Delaware. Since then, there just wasn't time to do more than brush her hair out of her face as she made her way across the country, and then the state, until she reached the small hell-hole known as Sunnydale, California - could it only have been a few hours ago?

Oddly enough, it was the sight of the welcome sign, covered in graffiti and bearing a chilling message to run while you still had the chance (among a smattering of obscenities), that finally brought home the realization that she didn't know where to go next. From the second she had made that phone call booking her flight here, she hadn't thought past the intense need to get to the town, as quickly as she could. But upon her actual arrival, she was clueless as to where to turn next. And it certainly didn't help matters that the town was barely recognizable from the place that she had visited last summer. While before it had looked quaint and almost cute, now it had the street war-torn look of the inner cities of Los Angeles and New York City. Many store fronts were boarded up, houses empty and abandoned, and it unnerved her the way the eyes of the citizens of Sunnydale watched her passage, eyes carrying a wariness that bordered on full-out paranoia.

A quick drive in her rented sedan to the address listed in the newspaper article revealed a bull-dozed plot where the Summers' residence used to stand. And even with the bright winter sun shining down on the small neighborhood, there wasn't a soul to be seen anywhere on the quiet street. No, not quiet - abandoned. The houses immediately surrounding the small plot were utterly trashed while the lot itself was littered with broken bottles and fire pits - obviously the site of what looked to be a continuous and extremely rough party for quite a while now - although as to where the partiers were currently hiding.. well, Miss Parker had to admit that she didn't care to stick around to find out. Especially once she noticed the posted warnings from the local law enforcement that warned the stray citizen to avoid the area - especially after nightfall. As a result, Miss Parker barely even slowed her car on the street, feeling as though eyes were watching her every movement from the ruinous homes that lined her way.

After that, Miss Parker had crossed the small town, finally pulling to a stop at the address that the records listed as the high school that Buffy Summers had attended - only to find a burned out shell instead of a place of learning. Dismayed, she had sat in stunned silence for a few moments, eyes locked on the sight, until she finally took note of the neighborhood that surrounded the school - a neighborhood that mirrored the one on Revello Drive. More concerned now than anything else, she had quickly put the car in gear and pulled away, not slowing down until she finally entered a part of town that.. well, resembled more of a town. Whatever had happened to Sunnydale since she had visited last, it was apparent that both the area surrounding Buffy's house and the old high school had become focal points of activity - and not of the good and wholesome variety.

Feeling defeated before she had even had a chance to begin, Miss Parker was about to head to the hospital where she had first met Buffy, playing on her last angle, when a conversation from nearly six months ago played again for her:

_"Where is Jarod?"_

_"Well, you see... he was kind of attacked-"_

_"Attacked? By whom?"_

_"... Uh, mosquitoes? Anyway, he's lost a lot of blood. We're getting an ambulance now."_

_"Where are you?"_

_"In the graveyard-"_

With nothing else to go on, she had then spent the rest of the afternoon into the winter's early evening taking a tour of the town's ridiculous amount of graveyards and cemeteries - which led her to her present location and unequivocal strike number eight million on her hunt... no, her journey to undo the wrongs of her-

"Good God, what's wrong with me?" she muttered, ending that train of thought before it led her any further along a route that was sure to cause plenty of nausea and embarrassment. But even that question had no definable answer - at least not one that she was yet willing to admit to. All she knew was that as long as she could remember, or at least since her mother died, she had always had clearly defined goals to accomplish - procedures to follow. At first it had been to do whatever it would take to make her father proud of her - to make him happy. Later, that goal was broadened to include amassing as much power as she could while she climbed the corporate ranks of the Centre. And four years ago, all of that changed once more when Jarod was thrust back into her life. At that point, her goals narrowed until it became a fine point of light at the end of a long tunnel: find Jarod, bring him back, make Daddy proud. And then... somewhere along the way her nicely defined lines and rules slowly became smudged with gray. And Miss Parker hated gray.

She wasn't sure when it had all started, but a large part of the change came with Tommy. For the first time in her life, she was in a relationship with a man who loved her for who she was, never expecting anything more or less than what she was capable of giving. And for the first time, she began to imagine a life outside of the Centre's confining walls. All of her other goals slowly began to fade away. Pleasing her father, the Centre... even Jarod. But all that ended on the morning that Tommy was murdered - most likely by someone that she worked for... was related to. After that _all_ of the rules went out the window, her goals focusing on somehow finding his killer and bringing that person to justice... until now. Jarod was returned to the Centre and it was no longer her mission to find him. She no longer worked for the Centre and its corporate ladder of power and success seemed a world away from the cold and lonely cemetery she prowled. And her father? He had slowly been disappearing from her life for so long that even his image had begun to fade. Everything was changed and gone, leaving her with a large hole within herself: one that had been filled by Jarod's simple words.

_"First you have to do something to help," he whispered, his eyes begging her to listen to his words and to see reason._

_"I don't know what you're expecting, but you're wrong," she countered. "This is what I've been waiting for for the last four years: to return you and finally be free of this hellhole!"_

_"I'm not talking about me," Jarod returned evenly, his voice quiet as his eyes locked with her own. "You know what your brother is doing is wrong," he continued, his voice insistent. "This is the exact thing that your mother fought against. How can you sit there and let an innocent girl be tortured like this? Changed?" he persisted, his voice cracking as his eyes slowly slid away. "How can you let her be taken away from her family? You have me now. You have your freedom. Use it to help her... your mother would have."_

She had to wonder if Jarod had any idea what those simple words had done to her. The effect that they would have. For in the end, they did affect her - tremendously. Those words gave her a purpose again - a goal to work towards. And that was to somehow help Buffy Summers and make right all of the wrongs that her brother had caused the girl. While it was true that she still really had no idea just how she was going to do that, or what she hoped to find in Sunnydale, she knew that she needed to do _something_. At least it was a starting point.

Suddenly, all thoughts of introspection were forgotten as muffled shouts broke the quiet night. Crouching low, Miss Parker pulled her gun from the small holster she wore beneath her long jacket, her eyes trained warily on the darkness that surrounded her. Then, like a huntress that was accustomed to the dark night, she slowly straightened and made her way across the grounds, weaving around tombstones and mausoleums as the sounds of a fight drew near.

* * *

Bright light. Bright light everywhere, glaring at her, pulling her down. Too much light.

Pain - hot and searing, tearing through limb and vein like fire. Hot. Burning. _Agony_.

Make it stop. Please, just make it stop.

No more pain. God, please, just no more pain. Take it away!

And the light. Too bright - hurts. Eyes.. closed against light, searing me. Burning me.

Someone make it stop. Someone. Anyone.

Mommy?

"_Nooooooo!!_" the girl screamed, the words tearing out of her lips as her body seized, muscles pulling taut and back arching against the heavy straps that held her to the table.

"Hold her down!" someone barked out as a wave of white-coated personnel swarmed the table, each grabbing a limb and pushing down with all of their strength. Then, seconds later, it was over as the girl's body relaxed and she fell back to the table, limp and unmoving.

"Mr. Raines?" one of the staff asked, eyes turning to the man that directed their actions.

For a moment, the older man paused, his eyes sweeping over the girl's small body before locking on the many instruments that beeped around her, cataloging their progress and monitoring her body's struggle against the procedure. For the moment, everything was stable once again. Smiling shrewdly, Mr. Raines slowly nodded his head, a rare grin splitting his lips as he took in a greedy lungful of fresh oxygen. "Continue," he rasped, his eyes twinkling with mad delight.

Nodding once, the technician moved towards the IV that fed a steady drip of fluid into the girl and seized the bag firmly in one hand. Without hesitation, he emptied the small syringe into the bag, the fluid quickly taking on a sickly green hue as the drugs mixed and then slowly made their way down through the tubing and directly into the girl's blood stream.

"How long?" someone else asked, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen upon the room as every eye turned to the girl.

"Not long. Not long now," another responded, their voice trailing off as the heart monitor began to beep more and more quickly, cataloging her increased heart rate. And then, the other machines started to respond in kind as the girl's brain waves spiked, the needles going crazy and zig-zagging across the charts.

"Mr. Raines?" the same person inquired, his words muffled by his mask as the girl's muscles slowly began to contract once more, her pale face tightening into an expression of pure agony, despite her unconscious state. And then, as her mouth opened wide in a silent scream her body relaxed once more and then began to seize.

This time, Raines did nothing as the girl's body thrashed on the table, the group of doctors and nurses, technicians and suited men, idly watching as the seizure ripped through her small frame. Even when a white froth became visible between her tightly clenched teeth, the people in the room did nothing. Soon, the white froth turned pink, evidence that she had bitten her tongue at some point. Yet the people did nothing.

"What will her mind be like once completed?" Mr. Lyle asked from beside the aging doctor, his eyes taking in the girl's every second of pain with great relish.

"What mind?" came Raines slow reply, a cold grin lifting his lips as he tore his eyes away from the sight to meet those of the younger man. And then, he turned once again to take in the transformation. The transformation to his greatest project yet.


	23. Chapter 23

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 23  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

"Watch it Wills, Big, Fat, and Ugly heading your way!" Xander called out as he ducked beneath the vampire's angry swipe, quick enough to avoid one blow but not so speedy as to miss the back swing that sent him rolling to the ground. "Ouch!" he hissed as old bruises protested to the action, yet never pausing long enough to fully appreciate the pain. Instead, he was on his feet again and diving for his dropped stake, snagging it in one hand and rolling onto his back in time to get a full view of the face of fangs headed for his jugular. "Whoa, hold up Fang Boy!" he protested as the vampire hauled him bodily to his feet.

In response, the vampire merely hissed, his yellow eyes sparkling in the dim lighting as he shoved Xander back against a crypt. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that good food doesn't talk back?" it growled, arching forward.

"Sorry, Mom must have missed that one!" Xander grunted as he brought up the stake just in time to land it in the vampire's heart, crumbling him into dust. "'Sides, I doubt I would have tasted very good - very little meat on these bones," he added as he absently began wiping away the ashes, his momentary distraction broken by Willow's startled yelp. Turning, Xander felt month's of experience kick in as he quickly took in the scene around him. Giles was off to the side, trying to hold his own against a tag team of vamps and looking like he wasn't faring too badly, with only a bit of blood running unchecked from his efforts, while Willow was about ready to become snack food for the big vampire that he had tried warning her about.

"No, no! Bad vampire, bad!" she screeched, desperately ducking beneath his clumsy swipe and scuttling across the grassy opening - only to have her foot snagged by the vampire, dragging her slender form right back to her tormentor. "Xander!" she wailed, her frightened eyes locking with her best friend's.

"That's it Willow, you tell 'em," he urged as he shoved away from the crypt and took a flying leap onto the large vampire's back, sending them both crashing to the ground.

"Xand- ooh, ouch," Willow murmured, having finally gained her foot's freedom in time to witness her friend's spectacular dive. "That had to hurt."

"Darn tootin'," Xander agreed, wincing as the vampire reached back and tossed him aside as the angry vamp's attention returned to his best friend.

"Uh.. how about a Plan B?" Willow asked tentatively as she began backing away from Big Ugly, stumbling around the miscellaneous tombstone that stood in her way.

"That _was_ Plan B!" Xander countered as he climbed to his aching feet, a quick glance assuring him that not only was Giles still holding his own, but he had somehow whittled down his fighting opponents to one nasty looking vampire. "Damn, G-Man is really racking up the points tonight," he muttered crossly as he reared back and took yet another flying leap at Willow's tormentor. This time, however, the move paid off as the vampire went head first into a large piece of granite, stunning it long enough for Xander to reclaim his trusty stake and take aim. "Hey Willow, remember this one?" he asked, risking a quick glance to his best friend before tightening his hold on the stake. "You eat this late and you're going to get heartburn!" he quipped as he brought the stake home as hard as he could, feeling the wood slide between ribs and impale the unbeating heart, grinning as the vampire dissolved into ash.

"Yeah, I heard Buffy working on that one last year," Willow added with a bright smile as she hurried over to Xander and helped pull him to his feet. "I told her then that it was funny, but I don't think she had a chance to use that pun-"

"Will you two quit jabbering long enough to give me a hand?" Giles' voice cut in, interrupting their fond memories as he struggled against the remaining vampire, a lucky punch knocking the vamp to the side. "And what did I bloody tell you about those stupid jokes?" he added as he wearily cradled his aching fist, the weak light glinting off of his glasses. "Such distractions can get you-" he broke off as, sufficiently distracted, his opponent retaliated with a swift upper-cut that sent the Watcher stumbling.

"Giles!" Willow screamed, both she and Xander still too far away to help their friend - unable to do more than watch as the vampire went in for the killing blow - which was when things really got interesting.

"Hold it!" a new voice called out, freezing everyone as the group turned and watched as a tall, slim brunette entered the clearing, her long coat parting around her.

"Hey, don't I know-" Xander began, his voice dying away as he took in the gun that was held in the woman's hand, trained on the remaining vampire.

"I don't know what's going on here," she began, her voice icy as the vampire turned and she got her first good look at the man's attacker, "and I don't know what in the hell happened to your face," she continued, her voice wavering only slightly before her resolve returned. "But I do know that you better back the hell off."

"Or what?" the vamp asked, a wicked grin lifting his lips as he slowly abandoned his earlier prey and began to move towards the newest player. "You gonna shoot me?"

"If you don't stop right now, then yes, I will," Miss Parker countered, cocking her weapon for effect - only to find that apparently the threat of her firearm just wasn't going to cut it this time. "I said, stop!" she cried, her voice rising slightly as the guy continued to move towards her. And then, when there was just feet between them, Miss Parker had no choice and quickly let off two shots - the slugs tearing into the man's chest and sending him to the cold ground. For a moment, she could only stand there in shock as she slowly lowered her gun, barely able to believe that she had actually just shot and killed a man. "I had no choice," she murmured, more to assuage the guilt that was already threatening to drowned her, than anything else, when the man's cold voice brought her attention snapping back.

"Hmm, that kind of burns," he muttered as he climbed back to his feet, a grim smile lifting his lips as he took the time to poke at one of the holes in his chest. Lifting the finger before him, he inspected the red fluid that stained his fingers before he met Miss Parker's eyes - and began to lick the blood from his fingers.

Horrified, Miss Parker could only watch as the thing advanced on her... and then disappeared into a cloud of ash, bringing her face to face with the impish face of a young man with unruly black hair.

"Now, as I was saying before," Xander began as Willow helped Giles to his feet, the older man slowly stepping forward and taking the gun from the woman's hands, her face white and eyes glassy, "don't we know her?"

"Miss?" Giles asked, ignoring Xander as he quickly unloaded the firearm and tucked it in his waist band.

In response, Miss Parker did something completely uncharacteristic - a first for her. She fainted.

* * *

"-and I'm going to need a complete computer analysis on the twin's spectrograph," Sydney murmured, his softly accented words drifting over the computer technician and lulling him into distraction.

"Complete spectrograph," Broots agreed absently, his fingers tapping on the file that he was holding as his eyes seemed to be focused on nothing at all.

"Yes, and in addition," Sydney added, his voice slowly trailing away as he finally looked away from the heap of paperwork that was piled on his desk and took note of his friend's distraction. "And in addition I'd like a full analysis of the complete ingredients to Aladdin's lamp and Pinnochio's blue fairy."

"Full analysis blue, what?" Broots mimicked, finally breaking out of his stupor as the words registered. "You want a what?" he queried, his eyes meeting those of the aging psychiatrist.

"To know what has you so distracted today," Sydney replied with a small smile, slowly leaning back in the soft leather chair as his eyes took in the computer technician. "These last few days your attention has been minimal, if best... everything is alright with Debbie, right?" he asked, concern flitting across his features as he thought of the man's young daughter.

"What? Oh, n-no, Debbie's fine," Broots stuttered, awkwardly shuffling the papers that he held in his hand, obviously thrown at being caught so easily.

"Then what has been troubling you? You... you haven't heard anything on Jarod, have you?" the older man continued, a small glint of hope brightening his eyes as he leaned forward, the chair creaking around his frame. It had been days since Jarod's return, and he had yet to be granted the privilege to see his... he didn't even know what to call Jarod, in reference to himself, but the point was that he still hadn't been allowed to see him, let alone continue his work with him. To be honest, Sydney had always hoped that Jarod would never be returned to the Centre - that his ward would finally be granted his freedom and the chance to live the life that he, himself, had helped to steal from the man. But if he had to be back in the Centre, Sydney at least wanted to know how he was - if he was doing alright under Lyle's care.

"No, I - I haven't heard anything about Jarod," Broots admitted quickly, pretending that he hadn't seen the look of distress that quickly faded into a mask of indifference. "I've just been... worried. About Miss Parker."

"Miss Parker? Why would you be worried about Miss Parker?" the man asked, quickly leaning forward, his eyes intensely searching Broots' for an answer. "She's free of the Centre now. You don't have to-"

"Have you heard from her? Since she left?" Broots interrupted, fidgeting nervously.

"No," Sydney answered slowly, a small frown creasing his features. "Have you?"

"Well... you see..."

"Broots?"

And then, as though a dam had been broken by this small prompt, Broots hurried forward and poured himself into the vacant chair before Sydney's desk, his fear and worry for their friend now prominently displayed across his features. "Before she left, Miss Parker asked me for a favor."

"What favor, Broots?"

"A few months ago she was asking about a Centre project that her brother was working on, Project Aradia. And before she left she wanted me to find everything I could on a girl named Buffy Summers. I found what I could and... and I haven't heard from her since."

For a moment, Sydney closed his eyes as a heavy weight pressed down on his aging shoulders. "Damn her," he muttered, his voice so low that Broots wasn't even sure that he had heard correctly. "Damn her," he repeated as he leaned back in the leather chair, his hands lifting until his fingers were steeped before him. After all these years, it would figure that Miss Parker would finally shrug off her father's mask and embrace her mother's destiny _after_ she had finally gained the freedom that she long deserved. Somehow, he sensed that his ward had a hand in that. "Jarod," he murmured, a small, secret smile lifting his lips as he finally met eyes with the balding computer technician. "Broots, I want you to show me everything that you found on this Project Aradia and Buffy Summers. It seems that it's time to save Miss Parker from herself."

* * *

"Xander, I never knew that you had such a talent for bondage," Willow murmured appreciatively as Xander slowly made his way around their captive, testing his knots as he went.

"Yeah, well you know how it is," the teen replied, grinning easily as he tugged on the ropes, "I never was really into playing Doctor when I was little and my friends and I were too poor for handcuffs when playing cops and-"

"Xander, I _was_ your childhood friend," Willow interrupted before the implication of their words quickly caused a bright blush to stain her cheeks. "Eek! I didn't mean," she began to stutter as she quickly backed away, falling onto the couch behind her.

"Eew, Willow bondage!" Xander added as he straightened and nodded toward his red-haired friend. "Okay, bad mental picture," he added as an afterthought as his nose wrinkled, almost missing the pillow that was sent careening towards his head.

"Yes, overall bad mental picture and a very torrid conversation, all of which are ending now," Giles added firmly as he left the kitchen, first aid kit in hand and a bag of ice being held against his raw and bloodied knuckles. "And Xander, do you really think that the ropes are necessary?" he added as he took in the brunette, now firmly tied to one of his wooden dining room chairs.

"Hey Giles, she was the one pointing a gun in our faces - again," Xander argued, his head nodding towards the firearm that was now resting on the table behind Giles. "And besides, I'm positive it's her!" he added as he looked back at the woman, taking in her slender form and tight pantsuit. "There's no way I could forget someone who dresses like that! She's the lady that held us off last summer - the one that that guy was running from, remember?"

"I'm with Xander on this one," Willow added from her spot on the couch. "Well, not about the whole cops and robbers with bondage thing," she quickly protested, Giles' affronted look confirming that he hadn't been _that_ confused by her statement, "but with the psycho-gun-totin'-lady's ID. She's _definitely_ the lady from last summer. 'Sides, Giles, I remember her voice," she finished, as though that settled everything.

"Not that I doubt her identity," Giles finally sighed as he began sorting through the large tin, occasionally sending a roll of gauze or some antiseptic ointment over to Willow on the couch, "I just wonder what she's doing back here in Sunnydale."

"You think that guy is back again? The one she was hunting?" Xander asked as he finally backed away from the chair and snagged another pack of ice.

"No, Jarod isn't in Sunnydale," the woman answered from behind them, causing Xander to yelp in surprise as he swung around and glared at the woman.

"You could have warned me that you weren't suffering from your fainting spell anymore!" he griped as he eased onto the couch beside Willow.

"Jarod's back in the Centre where he belongs," Miss Parker continued, pausing briefly to glare at the young man, trying to look as dignified as humanly possible when tied tightly to an uncomfortable wooden chair. "And I didn't faint. I _don't_ faint," she added, jutting her chin out defiantly.

"Yeah, whatever," Xander quipped, rolling his eyes dramatically as Willow tossed his bag of ice to him once again.

"So you caught him," Willow added, a small frown pulling at her lips as she began applying a judicious amount of ointment to a nasty gash that marred her arm."

"No, I didn't catch him," Miss Parker murmured quietly, her eyes moving until they locked on the weary gray eyes of the older man, Giles, if she had heard correctly. "Buffy did."


	24. Chapter 24

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 24  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

With practiced ease, the large grating slowly slid out from the wall, long fingers wrapping around the slats and suspending it mid-air in the small room. A dark head of hair followed the grating, wide shoulders and a narrow waist until the body of a man slid from the opening and landed lightly on the concrete floor below. Winded, Jarod took a moment to catch his breath, careful not to jostle his broken rib, and cautiously handed the metal grating back up to his cohort.

"Thank you, Angelo," he whispered, forcing a smile for the wild looking man who accepted the grating behind him.

"Friend help Warrior. Help her," Angelo muttered in return, his eyes moving beyond Jarod before he replaced the metal grating once more in the wall and then disappeared from sight.

"I plan on it," Jarod murmured, finally turning away from the wall and getting his first good look at the room. While still in the dungeons of the Centre, the room he found himself in was a far cry from his dank prison many sublevels below where he now stood. While it shared the same cold concrete floors and walls, bright fluorescent lighting illuminated the room, erasing the shadows from the small bed that sat opposite of him - the bed that contained one Buffy Summers.

"Buffy," Jarod whispered, relief evident in his voice as he began across the room, only to stop as he finally recognized what he was seeing. The first thing he noticed was that despite the horrible beating he had witnessed just a few short days before, the one that still left him bruised and broken, the girl looked as though that day had never happened. Once more she was clothed in the black, loose-fitting cargo pants, form-fitting long-sleeve shirt, and heavy combat boots, hair pulled tightly back in a long French braid. Yet even more disturbing, once more there wasn't a single reaction to the name that had rolled off of his lips.

"Buffy," he repeated, his voice louder now, more firm as he finished the distance between them, falling painfully to his knees before her. Yet once more, it was as though she wasn't even there. She sat tall and rigidly on the bed, hands clasped on her lap and face forward. Yet while her large green eyes remained open and unblinking, it was as though they stared at nothing.

"Buffy," he insisted, not wanting to believe what he was seeing as he tried to take one of her small hands in his, only to find that he would have more luck trying to pry a statue's arm from its unyielding position. And in that moment, Jarod felt his world crash down around him. He was too late.

Sighing, Jarod slowly let his head fall down until his chin was resting against his bloodied shirt, his eyes drifting shut. Lyle's beating had left him so battered that it had taken most of the past few days to get up the strength to move without crying out in agony from his broken rib. From then, it had taken a little longer to work out his guard's routine and find a way to take advantage of it, buying his freedom. After that, Jarod made his escape and at the first air vent he could find, he ventured forth, counting his blessings when within minutes he had stumbled across Angelo - an old friend who was all too willing to lead him to where Buffy was being kept. Throughout it all, even from the moment when he was faced with the choice of his freedom or his return to the Centre with Buffy, Jarod's mind had been working through the possibilities, quickly discarding idea after idea until he realized that this avenue would be the quickest and easiest way of getting them both free of the Centre. If he had escaped when Buffy had given him the opportunity in Michigan, it would have taken far longer than these past few days in order to devise a way into the Centre to free her. But even now, after all that he had endured... his quickest hadn't been fast enough.

Shaking his head slowly, Jarod lifted his head and rest one hand upon her cool cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispered, knowing even now that she didn't hear him. "I'm sorry that I came too late," he added, knowing that once again he had failed someone. Just as with his little brother, this time, he just wasn't fast enough. Just not good enough to save everyone.

Then, all thoughts of defeat and self-recrimination were forgotten as the door opened on silent hinges behind him, admitting the last person that he wanted to see during his run for freedom. Swiveling, Jarod was on his feet quicker than he thought possible, biting back his groan at his protesting ribs, eyes moving from Lyle's surprised face to the freedom that the open door behind him offered. And then he was moving, trying to shove past his hated tormentor even as the words left Lyle's lips.

"Slayer, stop him!" Mr. Lyle barked, quickly overcoming his surprise and moving out of the way of what he knew was to come next. And sure enough, even as the words slipped from his mouth the girl was in action, diving forward as though she had merely been waiting in expectation of his command. With inhuman speed she crossed the distance between her and the Pretender, small hands clamping onto his shoulders as ten nails dug viciously into his back, drawing blood as she easily pulled him from the door and rammed him against a nearby wall.

Grunting on impact, Jarod felt his mind reel as he was quickly turned, his eyes locking on Buffy's deadened gaze seconds before her fist connected with his face, sending his head careening back until it pounded off of the wall behind him. But Buffy wasn't done yet. Instead, she continued to land a flurry of kicks and punches on his lean frame, so fast that each forceful move lifted him in the air and prevented him from curling upon himself to find whatever protection the floor might offer. In that instant, even as he had the crap beat out of him once again in a matter of days, Jarod understood the difference between this girl and the girl that he had known - even the girl that he had encountered in Michigan, a prisoner of behavior modification. Whatever Raines did to her it had completely obliterated whatever it was that made Buffy Summers the bright, fiery girl that he had known. In her place, nothing remained save the Slayer - a warrior who seemed to think that pain, torture, and death were her sole gifts to offer.

As the beating continued, Jarod caught a movement from the corner of one blackened eye seconds before the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked echoed in the room. Ignoring the pain that was being delivered upon his body, Jarod watched in amazement as Sydney stepped into the room, a gun pushed firmly against the small of Mr. Lyle's back.

"Call the Slayer off, Lyle," the aging psychiatrist ordered, his lips set in a thin line that only Jarod could see. "Turn her off." But at the other man's silence, Sydney shook his head curtly, his eyes dancing to his ward whose eyes met his briefly before a kick connected with the side of his head and tossed him further back into the room. "She's good, Lyle, but do you really think she can make it here in time to prevent a bullet from entering your back?" he asked, pushing the gun even harder against him for emphasis.

For a second more, Lyle seemed to consider doing just that before common sense kicked in. "Slayer, stop," he ordered as the girl reacted instantaneously to his words, staying her assault and backing away from the beaten Pretender. "Stand down," he ordered, using the command that moved the girl until she was once more poised on the bed, shoulders straight and hands clasped in her lap, eyes unmoving. "There, are you-" he began, his words cut off as the gun cracked against his skull, sending him to an unconscious heap on the floor before the aging man.

Without another word, Sydney quickly hurried into the room and knelt beside his ward, eyes taking in the fresh blood that oozed from various places on his body. "Jarod, are you alright to move?" he asked, heartened to see that despite the pain, Jarod's eyes were clear as they skipped from Lyle back to his mentor.

"Sydney, what.. what have you done?" Jarod rasped, painfully standing with his friend's help.

Ignoring his question, Sydney quickly began leading them towards the open door. "How did you plan on getting out of here?" he asked, his voice tight as Jarod paused, leaning heavily against him.

"But Sydney, Lyle... you can't stay now," he muttered, his eyes going wide as panic set in.

For a moment, Sydney allowed himself the luxury of reveling in his ward's obvious concern for him before he quickly focused on the need to get as far from the Centre as possible, as quickly as possible. "I'm not," he murmured simply as he caught Jarod's eyes slip to the small girl that sat motionless behind them. Sighing, he understood the unasked question all too easily and quickly dispelled the man's hope with a curt shake of his head. "We can't take her with us - not yet. Besides, we have to go after Miss Parker."

"Miss Parker?" Jarod asked, eyes quickly meeting Sydney's, just as the older man knew they would. "Why?"

"Because for some idiotic reason, Miss Parker got it in her head to use her freedom to fix the Centre's mistakes," Sydney murmured, confirming his suspicions that Jarod had indeed been the one to plant that idea as a small smile pulled at the Pretender's lips. "I think she's gone to Sunnydale."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Jarod asked, gazing once again at Buffy's deadened expression before allowing his mentor to lead him from the room.

* * *

The unsettling silence that had fallen over the group slowly began to melt into one of barely contained fury - fury that was radiating off of the older British man, the one that Miss Parker had been counting on to be the sane and logical one of the group. At least it wouldn't be the first time that she had been wrong.

With deliberately slow steps, Giles crossed the distance between he and their captive, his eyes boring into her own. "What do you know of Buffy?" he asked, his lips peeling back from his teeth in a smile that could only be described as Ripperesque - a glare that could melt all other glares and turn normal human resistance into a lipid pond of ooze. Then again, the Ripper had never been faced with the Queen of Ice, she who mastered the art of intimidation.

"Are the ropes really necessary?" she asked, as though Giles had never spoken, a small frown pulling at her lips. "After all, you have my gun," she added, nodding towards the aforementioned firearm sitting on the table across the room.

For a moment, Giles considered her request before he slowly backed away, pausing only when there was a good five feet between them, leaning back against the counter that divided his living room from his small kitchen. "Xander, untie her," he ordered, his eyes never once leaving hers.

"But-"

"Do it," Giles interrupted in a tone that brooked no room for argument. And for once, amazingly, Xander listened and slowly moved forward to begin working on his knots, all the while adding his own glare to the mix. Several tense minutes later, the lanky teen finished his task and slowly returned to his spot on the couch, sulking the whole way as the leggy brunette stood from the uncomfortable chair, absently massaging her rope-burned wrists. "Well?" Giles prompted, his patience waning.

"What happened in the graveyard?" Miss Parker demanded, obviously used to getting her own way as she ignored their impatience for answers.

"Are you frigging kidding me?" Xander cried out, springing forward on the couch as his angry gaze swung over to the Watcher. "I want to know what she knows about Buffy!"

"And I'm not talking until I find out what the hell happened out there," Miss Parker countered evenly, a cold smile lifting her lips.

Before yet another angry tirade could break out from Xander, or before Giles could do more of his freaky Ripper-act, Willow quickly broke in. "Vampires," she stated quietly, catching the woman's attention as she arched one fine eyebrow at the young woman. At her skeptical look, she quickly squared her shoulders as she flashed her resolve face. "They were vampires, and it's what we do... well, what Buffy did," she amended with a small shrug.

At the mention of the girl that brought her across the country to this shitty little town, Miss Parker felt her curiosity grow. "What do you mean, what Buffy did?" she asked, slowly moving until she was settled once more in the hard backed chair, this time sitting as though she was God's gift to Giles' apartment.

"Buffy was - I mean is," Willow quickly corrected herself, faltering slightly at her slip, "the Chosen One - the one girl chosen in every generation to fight the evil of this world."

"The Chosen One?" Miss Parker parroted back, unsure if she should be amused or not, eyes skipping over to see the stoic faces of the other two in the room. "And then what?"

"What do you mean, and then what? She fights until she dies, and when she dies, a new slayer is called," Giles explained curtly, his eyes flashing before settling back into a mask of indifference.

Frowning, Miss Parker glanced back and forth from the different people that occupied this room, and then to the odd collection of wooden pieces that littered the floor, the ancient looking, yet well-maintained crossbows, axes, swords... and then she thought back to that day in Michigan, when Buffy dove through the window and fell two stories, only to land on her feet and run faster than was humanly possible. Sighing, Miss Parker closed her eyes briefly as she thought to how the girl moved, to the footage of her fight against the bear. And for the first time, she began to understand. The idea of Good and Evil with a capital G and E were still a little out there for Miss Parker. It would be so much easier to imagine that there was something else that drove the horrible actions of others, but when she thought of all of the horrors and wonders that the Centre was able to create, prodigies like Jarod, clones like Gemini, and atrocities like Angelo... well, this story wasn't _that_ difficult to buy. At least the basic idea - the fact that the girl was special somehow. "And because she's this chosen girl, she's different than the rest of us. Right?" she asked, her gaze swinging back to the British man. "Stronger, faster... a warrior," she murmured, answering her own question as everything finally clicked into place, remember Angelo's name for her.

For a moment, Giles cold anger disappeared under a curiosity that he was unable to quell. "Yes, quite different," he agreed, absently plucking his glasses from his nose and polishing them on his dirty shirt. "Because this town sits on the doorway to Hell itself, it is a magnet for all things evil. And I'm afraid that without Buffy here to fight and keep them at bay... well, it's slowly overrunning the town," he explained, pausing in his polishing as he voiced aloud all their fears. "We - we've done what we could since she went missing last summer, as has another group - government of some sort - but we're nothing without the Slayer."

"Slayer," Miss Parker murmured, a look of disgust twisting her features as she recognized the name that her brother called the girl. In the eyes of the Centre, Buffy Summers had died and disappeared forever the day that she was brought to the Centre. In their eyes, the Slayer was all that remained.

"Who are you?" Giles finally asked, breaking her reverie as he replaced his glasses atop his nose.

Sighing, Miss Parker slowly settled in her high-backed chair and prepared herself for the final step in the betrayal of everything that she had known. "My name is Miss Parker, and I used to work for a private organization in Delaware called The Centre," she murmured, forcing the words past her lips. In this moment, she knew that there was no going back. Maybe there hadn't been any room to turn back for quite a while now. Sighing, she quickly continued on. "The Centre's public front is a think tank, but really they've been working on numerous controversial projects for years, selling their results to the highest bidder, far from the public eye."

"And this has to do with Buffy how?" Xander asked, slowly shaking his head.

Ignoring the boy, Miss Parker pushed on. "For example, we mastered human cloning years ago - the first successful clone, Gemini, born over fifteen years ago. However, The Centre's most prized project, and the one that you're familiar with, is the Pretender project."

"And I'm still guessing that it's not to do with the Buffster," Xander added, by now growing exasperated as Willow elbowed him sharply in the side.

"The Pretender project?" Giles asked, ignoring Xander as well as he slowly crossed his arms, curious despite himself.

"A project that capitalizes on the mind of a genius. A pretender is a person who has the ability to become anyone: to think like them, act like them, talk like them... and throughout the years of the project, the Centre's most successful pretender - really, their _only_ pretender worth anything - was a man that was taken from his family when he was just a child."

"Jarod?" Giles surmised, his voice grim as the woman's description, while horribly unscrupulous and morally corrupt, was so similar to the actions of the Watcher's Council when procuring potential slayers. In the end, only their goals differed. The Centre took children from their families and raised them as orphans in order to bank a profit. The Watcher's Council did the same, with their justification that each girl held a slim possibility of being called as a Slayer - an action that would guarantee the girl an early death. The Council argued that they needed to take the girl under their wing and train her from a young age, giving the girl every chance possible of survival, of success - yet some, if not most of these potentials were never called.

Buffy had somehow escaped the Council's eye and in doing so lived far longer than most Slayers, lacking in obedience rather than skill. If anything, Buffy was a testament that perhaps the Council's old ways served no other purpose than in controlling the girls that could become the most powerful warrior in the world.

"Yes, Jarod," Miss Parker confirmed, interrupting Giles' musings. "He escaped from the Centre four years ago, and it's been my job to bring him back ever since."

"So," Willow murmured, adding to the conversation as a slow play of horror twisted her pixie-like features, fully realizing for the first time the part that she had almost played in his capture, "last August... you were - you were trying to bring him back - back _there!_"

"Yes," Miss Parker affirmed, struggling to maintain the air of indifference to the horror that the girl obviously felt. It didn't matter, she kept telling herself. She did what she had to do in order to survive. In order to gain her freedom. He was a job and she was just doing her job.

"And while proving that she is indeed a bad guy," Xander added, ignoring Giles' frustrated glare, "I'm still waiting to see what this all has to do with Buffy."

Sighing, Miss Parker flashed the boy an exasperated frown as she stood from her chair and began pacing before it. "What I was about to explain," she continued, pausing to allow her eyes to rake over his lanky form, "is that was how Lyle noticed Buffy for the first time."

"Lyle?" Giles interrupted, trying to recall anything that Buffy may have mentioned about Jarod after his departure. To be honest, he was coming up with an alarmingly little amount of information. Despite the fact that his slayer had spent close to an hour alone in the man's presence, she had little to offer about him after - stating only that he was a good guy that was running from a troubled past.

"Mr. Lyle," Miss Parker corrected with a small grimace. "My twin brother."

"Your _twin brother_?" Willow echoed, mirroring the disgust that was evidenced on Miss Parker's sharp features.

"So... this is like a _family_ thing," Xander added, unable to restrain himself.

For a moment, Miss Parker graced the teen with a strained smile as she thought about how true his analysis was. She didn't even plan on mentioning the fact that her father, currently missing in action, had been the director of the Centre since his own father had passed away. She didn't need to discredit herself any further with that admission. And then there was the fact that her mother had been employed at the Centre herself, up until the day that she was murdered for trying to make things right. Yes, Xander hit the nail right on the head with that one. The Centre had been, and was always to continue on to be an integral part of her family. There was no Centre without the Parker family.

"Well what does your brother want with Buffy?" Xander continued, asking the question that had been on all of their minds.

In response, Miss Parker could only shake her head slowly, fumbling for the right words as she slowly moved behind the chair. "My brother is... an evil man," she murmured, her eyes turning down as she locked her hands on the high back of the chair, her nails digging into the wood. "What wouldn't he want with a girl who is that strong? That fast? That... lethal?" she asked, finally lifting her eyes until they locked with Giles'. "He just needed to figure out how to control her."

"Whoa, hold up!" Xander quickly protested, not liking what he was hearing one bit. The cold knot that had formed in his stomach the day that he heard the news from Willow last summer, the one that had never went away, began to tighten, making it difficult to breathe. "So, you're trying to tell us that your evil twin brother took Buffy?"

"And killed her mom?" Willow added, unshed tears sparkling in her eyes.

But before Miss Parker could confirm their fears, Giles slowly moved away from the counter until he was standing before the tall woman, the chair between them. "And how, pray tell, does he plan to.. to 'control' her?" he asked softly, not wanting to but needing to hear her words. For a moment, he didn't think that she was going to answer as her eyes locked with his own - eyes that contained such fury.

"He... has his methods," she finally murmured, and by her tone, things began to be clear. Way too clear as Giles began to understand a part of the hell that had been forced upon his Slayer... upon his little girl.

"Buffy..."


	25. Chapter 25

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 25  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

As a bleak silence fell over the room, Giles slowly lifted his glasses from his face, ignoring the trembling in his own hand. His Slayer, his Buffy, had been taken almost five months ago, which meant that she had been imprisoned in this Centre for that long... that she had been in the hands of this man for that long. He didn't need Miss Parker to go into torrid detail for him to understand that his illusive fantasies of Buffy being held by people that fed her, clothed her, and kept her warm and safe were nothing more than fantasies. Instead, Buffy had obviously been forced to endure five months of Hell... perhaps something worse than Hell. It was all too easy for him to remember the night that he had spent as a prisoner of Angelus two years ago - a night that seemed to last an eternity. And here this woman was all but saying that his slayer... that Buffy had been forced to endure a night like his that lasted for what had to seem to be an actual eternity.

"Dear God," he whispered, sagging back against the counter behind him as his mind began to spin. Upon hearing her words, he couldn't help but wonder now, just not if they would get Buffy back... but what kind of condition she would be in when she was finally returned to them. If she was finally returned to them. What condition in body and more importantly, in mind?

"Damn," Xander murmured weakly, filling in the bleak void that had fallen upon the room. "If all they wanted was a psychotic Slayer to go kill some people, they should have just taken Faith," he murmured as he shrugged his shoulders. "If they could have woken her up."

"Faith?" Miss Parker asked, her attention sparked by the familiar word as she realized that faith wasn't a thing, but a person. "Who's Faith?" she demanded, her eyes urgently sweeping from person to person. But it was as though that question finally brought the others back to the present, pulling their worrying minds away from their lost friend. And with that pull came the realization that they didn't trust her. That she was one of the 'bad' guys. Instantly, both Xander and Giles' faces closed up as they looked at her with obvious suspicion. Sighing, she was about to try again when the small redhead spoke up, Willow, if she remembered correctly.

"Faith is another Slayer," Willow supplied, ignoring the glares that she was receiving from both Giles and her best friend.

"There are two?" Miss Parker asked quickly, arching an eyebrow at the group. "But I thought you said _one_ girl in every generation-"

"There's not supposed to be," Xander interrupted with a small shrug. "A loophole in the whole once a slayer dies, another called theory."

"Well, where is she?" Miss Parker asked, Buffy's last words to her ringing in her mind.

"Currently?" Xander continued, a frown pulling at his lips. "A vegetable in good old Sunnydale Memorial. Previously? A psychotic she-bitch working for the Mayor, aka demon-ascension-meet-TNT," he finished with a wry grin.

Ignoring the teen's colorful side commentary, Miss Parker pursed her lips and slowly tapped one long finger against her chin. "Before I left the Centre, I saw Buffy one last time," she murmured, completely oblivious to the fact that she now had everyone's undivided attention. "She was under some kind of drug, and not very coherent," Parker admitted with a small frown, "but she said something about needing to tell you," she continued, nodding towards Giles, "that someone needed Faith. That someone was coming for Faith and that you needed to save her." Smartly, she decided to not pass on the part about Buffy saying that there wasn't any hope left for her - no way to help her any longer. "At the time, I didn't know that she was talking about a person."

For a brief moment, a thick silence fell over the group - a silence that was quickly shattered by the sound of exploding glass. Startled, the group flinched as Giles sent another glass crashing to the ground as he angrily pounded his fist on the counter, his back turned towards them. "Damn them," he hissed in a voice that was too easy for the other Scoobies to recognize by this point.

"Uh... Giles?" Willow asked tentatively from her place on the couch, knowing from experience that it wasn't the best of ideas to physically approach him when like this.

"The Council," Giles responded, finally turning back towards the group, his face flushed and a vein throbbing in his temple. "It's why the Council hasn't sent any aid," he continued quickly, his tone biting. "Those bloody pillocks have decided to forgo Buffy and go after Faith instead!" he hissed, kicking himself for not having realized it sooner. For not having realized the extremes that the Council that he had been sworn to would go in order to ensure the Slayer line continued.

"They're going to kill her to activate the next Slayer," Willow murmured, comprehension dawning on her face.

Startled, Miss Parker could only stare at the others for a few moments before common sense kicked in once again. "But how could Buffy have possibly known about this?"

"Buffy has dreams," Willow explained quickly, her forehead wrinkling. "Prophetic dreams because she's the Slayer."

"And Faith and Buffy have some strange connection because of the sister slayer thing," Xander added, remembering how it was Faith in a dream that had given them the key needed to defeat the Mayor. Then, pushing away the memories of better times - amused at the thought that graduation could be _considered_ better times - Xander quickly got down to the root of it. "So, now what?"

"Now we have no choice," Giles responded quickly, straightening as he said the words he never thought he'd be forced to say. "Our first order of business is to save Faith. We need to get her out of the hospital somehow before the Council can get to her."

"What?" Xander countered, jumping to his feet as he stalked towards the aging Watcher. "I can't believe this! You want us to leave Buffy in that place when we finally know where she is?"

Sighing, Miss Parker interrupted the teen's angry tirade. "If your friend is really capable of these dreams... well, she made it clear what she wanted you all to do. And storming the doors of the Centre wasn't what she was referring to," she murmured, arms crossing firmly across her chest. "Besides, it'd be near impossible to get to Buffy inside the Centre-" she broke off as the door burst open behind her, admitting Oz, followed by Jarod and Sydney, the former leaning slightly on the older man.

"Don't worry," Jarod said by way of greeting, eyes taking in the stunned group before him. "I'm pretty sure that the Centre isn't that far behind us."

* * *

Ignoring his pounding head, Lyle's angry gaze swept over the team of sweepers that scoured the room, as though they really thought that they could find a clue to Jarod and Sydney's whereabouts in the small cell. Grimacing, he adjusted the bag of ice slightly before turning his stormy eyes on the tall black man beside him. "Willie, what I want to know is how in the hell Sydney got down here!"

"Sydney had authorized clearance for this sublevel," Willie responded, refusing to have the blame for this mishap pinned on him. "Some of his subjects are located down the hall, and Security didn't realize what was happening until it was too late."

"Too late?" Lyle asked, his eyes widening before narrowing into slits on the man before him. "Security didn't realize what had happened until I alerted them! Security didn't prevent Sydney from giving me this," he continued, pointing angrily at the massive lump that was forming on the back of his head, "nor did they prevent him from getting away with Jarod. Again!" To this, the man had no response and Mr. Lyle continued to seethe for a minute more before he forced himself to get under control. "Find Broots," he ordered, his voice curt. "I'm sure that he had some hand in this."

"Yes, Mr. Lyle," Willie acknowledged, silently relieved to be escaping the temporary director's wrath.

Sighing, Lyle slowly turned until his eyes rested on the small slip of a girl that continued to sit on the bunk, completely ignorant of the bustle of activity that surrounded her. "Well?" he asked, directing his question to the man that knelt by the girl's side, a small bag lying open at his feet.

With a rare smile, Mr. Raines turned away from his patient and nodded once to the nine- fingered man behind him. "The procedure has worked... even better than... even I had imagined it would," he rasped, his voice a deep nasal echo in between airy lungfuls of oxygen from the tank beside him.

"So she won't break it this time," Lyle pushed, his eyes shrewdly taking in the girl's passive expression.

"She can't, even if she tried," Raines wheezed as he slowly forced his aging limbs to carry him to his feet. "It's impossible... theoretically, this isn't Buffy Summers any more... Buffy Summers is dead... your Slayer is the only thing that remains..."

"But are you _sure?_" Lyle persisted, clamping down on his expectations as he took a small step closer to the doctor.

"As sure as I can be with this new science, perfected since Angelo," Raines admitted with a shrug, his beady eyes trailing lovingly over the girl's blonde head. And then, as though a new thought occurred to him, Raines' smile turned wicked. "Although, if any part of Buffy Summers does remain, and if she tries to fight against the drugs and wins... well, let's just say that she won't be around to enjoy it."

* * *

As the group slowly absorbed the shock of the abrupt entrance, Oz casually made his way across the room and settled on the couch beside his girlfriend. "I ran into these two across town. Thought I'd bring 'em by," he offered, his explanation doing little to actually explain the sudden appearance of the older guy and the much- battered Pretender they hadn't seen in months.

Out of everyone, Miss Parker was the only one who didn't seem to share in the shock of seeing the two unlikely visitors, a slow smile lifting her lips. "I see that you've escaped again, Jarod," she murmured, her gaze locking on the twinkling eyes of her old friend.

"Does that mean that our game is on again, Miss Parker?" Jarod asked, a small smile lifting his lips as Sydney helped him into the hard backed chair she had so recently vacated.

For a brief moment, it seemed as though Miss Parker considered his question before a sly smile, all too familiar, lifted her lips. "Haven't you heard?" she asked, arching a slim eyebrow at the man. "I no longer work for the Centre. As far as I'm concerned, you are officially my brother's problem. And good riddance," she added before turning to the Pretender's companion. "And Sydney, how did you manage to get caught up in all of this?" she asked, unable to mask the worry and disappointment in her voice. If she was honest with herself, it was how much she cared for the man who had always been a part of her life that kept her from going to him in the first place. She had wanted to keep him as far away from the danger she knew this would entail. It seemed that she had failed in that respect.

"Broots," Sydney responded with a simple shrug, watching as Miss Parker's frown turned into a small smile.

"Well, I'm glad you're here," she murmured, surprising herself with her words. "And to be honest, your timing couldn't be better," she added, her eyes narrowing slightly as she quickly returned to business. "We have a comatose teen that we need to get out of Sunnydale and someplace safe and hidden as soon as possible. Sooner, actually. Can we use your old contacts for your brother?"

As Sydney pondered Miss Parker's words, Xander quickly found that enough was enough as his hot temper got away with him. "Okay, I think I speak for the Scoobies when I say, huh?" he said, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. "I mean, Ice Queen over there said that Buffy put you back in the Centre," he began, hiding his smirk as Miss Parker bristled as his words, "and - who's the old guy who speaks funny?" he finished, nodding at the older gentlemen, earning himself a new round of exasperated glares from Giles and Willow.

Smiling, Jarod couldn't help the small chuckle at the teen's words. He remembered him all to well from their meeting last summer. How could anyone possibly forget a person such as Alexander Lavelle Harris? "This is Sydney - an old friend," he introduced, before nodding to the rest of the room in turn. "Sydney, you just met Oz, and the redhead beside him is Willow, Xander, the teen beside her, and the man over there is Mr. Giles."

"Just Giles," the Watcher returned, his mind trying to stay abreast of everything being thrown their way. It was amazing how much their position could change in the matter of one night, after months of dead ends and long nights.

"But I thought he was one of the bad guys," Willow protested, her nose scrunching slightly as her eyes confirmed this statement with her friends.

"No, not a bad guy," Sydney countered with a small, serene smile. "Just working for the wrong team when we last met."

Pouting, Willow quickly reclined into the couch, her posture mimicking her friend beside her. "Can't you people start wearing little nametags or something? You know, ones that say, 'Hello, I am Bad.' Or 'Hello, I've switched teams. I am a Good Guy.'"

Rolling his eyes as the redhead's complaints, Giles focused on the Pretender sitting across from him. "What did you mean when you said that this Centre place was on their way? And what on Earth happened to you?"

"Mr. Lyle and Buffy happened to me," Jarod explained with a pained expression, either ignoring the Sunnydale group's stunned expressions or missing them entirely. "And Miss Parker didn't hide her trail to Sunnydale very well. If I was able to follow her this easily, I can guarantee that the Centre won't be very far behind."

Exasperated, Miss Parker shook her head. "When I came to Sunnydale, the Centre had no reason to pay attention to my movements!" she protested, her eyes flashing angrily. "And now with your little escape you've just led the Centre to their front door!"

"Not exactly the brightest genius _I've_ ever met," Xander concurred with a smirk, by this point adding his snide comments more out of reflex than anything else.

And, like the rest of the group, Jarod proceeded to ignore Xander as he shrugged helplessly at the room, staving off a grimace at the movement. "Miss Parker, you just finished saying how difficult it would have been to get Buffy out of the Centre. But now... well, now they'll be bringing Buffy to us."

At his words, instant pandemonium took place as Xander bolted from the couch, Willow right behind as they clamored to be heard. "Whoa, they're bringing Buffy back?" "Buffy's coming?"

Yet Jarod was focused solely on the small frown that played across Miss Parker's painted lips. "I don't understand," she murmured, shaking her head slowly as her brown hair swirled around her slim shoulders. "How could they be bringing her now? Already?"

In response, Jarod's eyes slowly slipped shut, a grimace twisting his features as he tried to find words to explain what he had found. What he had witnessed. In the end, only one word was needed. Sighing, he slowly opened his eyes, his large brown orbs conveying all of the fear, pain, and guilt that radiated through his battered form. "Raines."


	26. Chapter 26

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 26  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

"Mr. Lyle?" Willie called, breaking into the man's jumbled thoughts.

Then, as his eyes met the watery, nervous hazel eyes of his favorite computer technician, a wicked grin lifted his lips. "Mr. Broots!" he cried, lifting the bag of melted ice from the lump on his head and tossing it carelessly to the side, watching as the man jumped at his words, his eyes dancing back and forth between himself and the Slayer, still sitting poised off to the side. "Just the man I wanted to see!"

"M- Mister Lyle," Broots croaked, shuffling forward and trying not to wince as Lyle clapped him on the back - hard.

"Now Broots, what can you tell me about Sydney?" he asked, and by the way that the man's eyes widened slightly, it was evident that Sydney was not the name he had been expecting to roll off of his tongue.

"Sy-Sydney?" he squeaked, his brow wrinkling in confusion. "I-I don't understand. Sydney?"

"Yes, Broots, Sydney," Lyle confirmed with a frustrated sigh. "The man who clocked me with the butt of a gun and then ran off with our recently-returned Pretender."

"Sy-Sydney? W-with Jarod?" Broots parroted, his eyes widening as he nervously began twisting his hands before him. "B-but I.. he-he didn't say. I-I haven't s-s-seen him," he stammered.

With a long suffering sigh, Lyle wearily pinched the bridge of his nose, wanting nothing more than to stop the man's sniveling - which was when he raised his head, a new sparkle in his eye. "Now Broots, how is that daughter of yours?" he asked, his smile growing as he draped an arm casually across the quaking man's shoulders. "Debbie, right?"

Instantly Broots felt a quiver of fear snake through his body like a shot of liquid ice. "B-but.. I-I-I don't know anything!" he protested, furious with himself for his weakness but unable to stop. Lyle didn't even have to make an open threat for Broots to know that the man could and would do anything to his little daughter to get what was needed. But this was Miss Parker and Sydney he was talking about - the only friends that he had in this world.

With a small smile, Lyle slowly reached into his pocket and withdrew a slim phone, flipping it open and pushing one button. His eyes never leaving Broots, he brought the device to his mouth. "Yes, I want you to send someone to pick up Mr. Broots' daughter, Debbie-"

"No!" Broots interrupted, his shaking disappearing under a wave of anger - anger at himself for what he was about to do. Yes, it was his only friends he was talking about - but on the other hand, it was _Debbie._ "All I know is that Sydney was asking about Miss Parker this morning. That's it. That's all I know," he said in a hurried rush, his eyes locked on the hand that held the cell phone to Lyle's ear. For a moment, he thought it was all for naught until the hand shifted, pulling away from Lyle's ear as the man cursed quietly beneath his breath.

With narrowed eyes, Mr. Lyle moved away from Broots and lifted the phone to his ear once again. "Belay that last order. Instead, I want you to find out what my dear sister has been up to," he hissed, his voice low and venomous. "Find her."

* * *

Stricken, Miss Parker locked eyes with the Pretender before she slowly turned away, breaking contact as she forced her face back into an impregnable mask. If there was one thing that Miss Parker was always in control of, it was how she portrayed herself - affecting how others perceived her. And there was one thing that Miss Parker never let others see, at least when she could help it - and that was her pain. In this instance, her pain consisted of a wave of guilt as she realized that she was most likely too late. Too late before she had even begun. And even as the despair swept through her tall frame, Miss Parker felt a wave of anger burn away the weakness - an anger that was all too easy to find focus. She had always known how evil her brother was. How twisted. Yet she had never imagined that he would go this far. Never this far.

Yet Miss Parker failed to hide her reaction fast enough and Giles felt panic consume him as he pushed away from the counter. "What?" he demanded, his voice echoing loudly in the small room. "What are you talking about? What about Buffy?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly on his slayer's name.

Sighing, Sydney slowly lifted a hand to still the man's frantic questions. From the desperation in his green eyes, Sydney knew that he had found a fellow spirit in this man - both in a position to take care of their wards, yet not supposed to care... and unable to stop themselves. "Mr. Raines used to be a colleague of mine - a doctor at the Centre. A very different doctor than myself - one that is not guided by morals or medical compunctions," he explained, his words soft. "He has used series of drugs and unorthodox experimentation in the past to create such amazing successes as a human clone... and such horrific results as Angelo," Sydney murmured, a frown pulling at his lips at the boy no one was able to save - another victim of the Centre.

"Angelo first came to the Centre as a little boy named Timmy," he continued, pushing his dismal thoughts aside, "a young and gifted empath. But when Raines was through with him, his drugs enhanced the aspects that the Centre desired and destroyed the personality of Timmy until the man we call Angelo was all that remained."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Xander slowly shook his head. "But... it can be reversed, right?" As a thick silence fell over the room, Xander turned desperate eyes to Giles and then back to Sydney before finally landing on Jarod.

"It.. it has been done before," Jarod admitted, thinking back to the little boy that they had almost been too late to save. The one that Angelo had saved, forever forsaking his chance to regain what Raines' drugs had taken from him. "But I'm not sure that it could be repeated. There are too many varia-"

"It's doesn't matter," Giles interrupted, startling everyone with his words as he pushed away from the counter, his gaze sweeping over the friends and strangers alike that littered his small apartment. "At least, not now," he amended as Xander angrily stood to meet him. "We need to focus on getting Faith out of that-"

"Like hell we-"

"We do not have time to waste sitting here arguing! The Council is on their way, may have already beat us there, and unless we get there first then Faith will die and a new slayer will be called," Giles cut in, his voice harsher than he had intended as the boy stepped back as though slapped. "Xander, I don't like it any better than you, but this is what Buffy wanted," he murmured, watching as the anger burned in the youth's dark eyes even as once more Xander showed restraint and somehow managed to bite back his sharp retort. Sighing, Giles quickly turned and nodded towards the psychiatrist. "Now, can you help us or not?"

"If I can use your phone, then I believe I can start making arrangements now," Sydney replied, waiting for the man's nod before slipping out of his long, heavy jacket. "The rest of you should try to get this girl out of the hospital and back here to the apartment for now - I'll handle the remaining details."

As one, the group slowly stood and began gathering jackets and congregating in a mass before the door. "I'll drive," Oz offered, dangling his keys and eyeing the five other people that would be accompanying him on the trip. His van would be needed to fit them all, as well as Faith once they staged their rescue... which brought up a good question. "Uh... did anybody ever decide how we're getting her out?" he asked, stilling Giles' hand on the door.

"Well-"

"Giles," Jarod began, a bright light burning in his eyes as a grin all too familiar to Miss Parker lifted his lips, "what does a Watcher normally wear?"

* * *

With a staccato of hard soled shoes and three-inch heels, the three individuals moved briskly down the hospital corridor, their long dress coats swirling around their legs. As they neared the nurse's station that stood guard over the patient hallway beyond, one person stepped forward from the trio, clearing his throat softly to gain the woman's attention.

"Yes, can I help you?" the nurse asked, her eyes raking over the men's battered faces and over the cold, impassive face of the woman that accompanied them. All were unfamiliar to her and she found herself slowly straightening her shoulders under the one's piercing gaze. It felt as though she were being judged in some manner.

"Yes, if you could please escort us to the room of Miss Faith," the leader spoke in a clipped British accent, his brown eyes turning away from hers and staring pointedly down the hall where he knew their destination lay.

Instantly suspicious, the woman felt her eyes narrow as she once more took close stock of the visitors. The man who had spoken was tall, probably in his thirties, with the brief hint of a dark tie visible through the top of his long coat - and a face that was smattered with bruises and swelling. The other man, while slightly shorter than the first, was older, probably mid-forties, with a sprinkling of gray dotting his short hair and glasses perched atop the tip of his nose - a face that mirrored the other man's battered appearance. The woman who accompanied them, on the other hand, was a woman whose features seemed cut from the finest glass, skin pale and clear, thin lips painted dark and cold eyes that seemed to see right through her. The three made an impressive, if not battered, front. "Who are you?" she asked, her weary tone betraying her suspicions.

For a moment, the tall man's eyes narrowed before he nodded briskly at her. "I am Mr. Jarod Workshire," he said, his accent betraying his British origins as he turned and nodded to the woman beside him. "And my associates are Miss Parker, and... I'm sure you've heard of Mr. Giles," he added, smiling slightly as the woman's eyes widened slightly, confirming his own suspicions as to her identity.

"Certainly, Mr. Giles," she acknowledged, stammering slightly as she held herself even taller, "the Watcher of the other Slayer," she murmured before her eyes creased slightly. "But what on Earth has happened to the two of you?"

Relaxing slightly, Jarod leaned forward, almost imperceptibly as he gave the impression of camaraderie with the unknown woman. "Well, surely you've heard of the disappearance of the other Slayer last summer."

"Of course," the woman quickly confirmed, a small frown playing at her lips. "That's why the Council has finally come for Miss Faith - to call the next."

"Exactly," Jarod replied, his eyes crinkling as he smiled broadly at the woman, the consummate actor. "And in the meantime, myself and Mr. Giles have been working on the Hellmouth, doing what we can - but to be honest, we need a Slayer, now more than ever. Which is why we're here for Miss Faith."

Confused, the nurse slowly shook her head, her short hair bobbing around her shoulders. "B-but I don't understand," she stammered, her eyes dipping down to look at a folder that was opened on the desk before her. "Where is Mr. Travers?"

"Mr. Travers?" Giles asked quickly, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Yes, I just got off the phone with him and he said that he and the others were just pulling up."

"We're the others," Jarod filled in smoothly, smiling slightly at the ruffled woman. "Mr. Travers is waiting for us down in the car," he fibbed, turning up the charm a notch or two as the woman seemed to debate the validity of his words. "We brought clothes," he added as Miss Parker lifted a small bag of sweats before her.

For a moment more the nurse struggled with the decision before she shrugged casually. "Very well, then," she said, a faint smile finally lifting her lips. "If you'll follow me," she instructed, placing the file on the desk before her and beckoning the others to trail her down the corridor, finally stopping before an open doorway. "Now, if you gentlemen will wait out here while Miss Parker and I prepare Miss Faith," she added, missing the small look that was shared between the woman and Jarod before Miss Parker followed the nurse into the room.

Several minutes later - minutes that felt like hours to Jarod and Giles - the nurse reemerged, waving the men in distractedly. "Now if you will just wait right here, I'll go find us an orderly to help with a bed," she added before disappearing further down the hall towards a service elevator that sat at the end.

But even as the nurse was calling the elevator to their floor, Giles was already in motion as he hurried into the room and to Miss Parker's side. Before him on the bed lay a shell of the rogue slayer, her skin pasty white with dark circles lining her closed eyes, hair limp and framing her hallowed face. Yet the only thing that mattered to him was the fact that Buffy's old training clothes seemed to fit the girl, at least well enough to get her out of there. Grunting, he quickly lifted the comatose Slayer into his arms, silently grateful that her bed rest had emaciated her form enough to allow her to be less of a burden than in the height of her glory. Currently, she weighed almost the same as his own slayer.

"Giles," Jarod called out, finally abandoning the accent as he nodded from his position by the door, "we've got company," he finished, his eyes locking on the four men that were waiting at the nurse's station - the four men that looked prim, proper, and all too British.

"Travers," Giles confirmed, joining Jarod at the door, the slayer cradled in his arms as his eyes swept over the small group - eyes locking with the dark eyes of the head of the Watcher's Council. Cursing, Giles tightened his hold on the girl as Travers' eyes widened in recognition, his words lost to them as he and the others surged forward.

"Time to move," Miss Parker urged, pushing the guys from behind and into the hallway in the direction that the nurse had disappeared. Seconds later they were off and darting down the corridor as fast as they could move with Giles' heavy burden, Jarod taking the lead. For a moment, it felt like old times, Miss Parker's coat swirling around her legs as she kept her eyes focused on the Pretender's back before her, her heels echoing loudly on the hard linoleum, sounding like the rapport of gunfire. But it wasn't old times. Now, she wasn't running after Jarod, but with him. And this time, there was much more at stake than her father's praise - now, they held a girl's life in their hands. And most likely, theirs as well.

Eying a crowded tray of supplies, Miss Parker paused long enough to send the cart toppling to the ground, scattering the floor with medical instruments and hopefully providing their pursuers enough of an obstacle to hasten their getaway. Panting, she reached the hallway's end in time to slip through the closing elevator door, tumbling against Jarod and the bewildered nurse as a hand made a frantic grab for her, quickly pulling fingers back as the elevator door closed with a resounding thud behind her.

Cursing, Mr. Quentin Travers watched the lights above the elevator for the briefest of seconds before his eyes caught on the door behind them, clearly marking their means of pursuit. "The stairs, damnit, take the stairs!" he ordered as he himself dove at the door, the steel crashing open as he hurtled down the offending passageway. It would be a cold day in hell when he allowed a certain Mr. Rupert Giles to get the better of him.

He had no idea how the ex-Watcher had learned of their intentions concerning the Slayer Faith, but he had the bloody wrong idea if he believed that he could get away with interfering. He or his strange friends.


	27. Chapter 27

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 27  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

As the elevator doors swept open to reveal the dimly lit parking garage, Miss Parker, Jarod, and Giles hurried out, Faith still cradled in the Watcher's arms as a stunned nurse remained huddled in back. Pausing briefly, Jarod's frantic eyes swept over the structure, his breath catching in his throat until he sighted the dark van parked nearby, three sets of startled eyes meeting his before the van roared to life. "There," he said, indicating the van that was slowly lumbering towards them when the sound of a car door pulled his attention in another direction.

"Jarod, there's Jarod!" the unmistakable voice of Mr. Lyle rang out in the parking garage as he, Willie, and two other sweepers emptied out of their dark sedan.

Freezing, three sets of eyes swung towards the new arrivals, obviously heralding the untimely arrival of the Centre. "Damnit, Oz, hurry," Giles murmured not quite believing their luck as his eyes swept back towards the Centre operatives - just in time to watch as an unmistakable blonde head bobbed out of the dark car and into view. "Buffy," Giles whispered, tears instantly burning his eyes as he hungrily took in the vision of the slayer that he had quietly begun to fear he would never see again.

Seeing the Watcher's dilemma, Jarod quickly took the comatose girl from the man's hands, grunting as his ribs protested against the movement - and just in time, it seemed, as Giles' knees buckled beneath his weight. Shaking his head, Jarod began towards the van as it careened to a stop beside him, watching as Miss Parker quickly helped the Watcher to his feet, restraining him as he tried to move towards the girl that he loved so much - had missed for so long.

"Not now," Miss Parker murmured, straining against the older man as she began dragging him towards the doors to the van. And then, as if their present troubles weren't enough, the door that led to the stairwell, the one that stood between themselves and her idiotic brother, burst open, releasing the four members of the Watcher's Council.

At that moment, everything froze as everyone stared warily at everyone else. But that moment didn't last long enough as Mr. Travers turned, following Giles' frantic gaze and locking on the little blonde slayer that stood behind their group - a Slayer that he had been all too content to write off for good. "Buffy Summers," he murmured, his soft words echoing in the thick silence as his eyes locked on the blonde girl that stood amongst a small group of dark-clothed men. "Grab her," he ordered, ignoring Faith and focusing on the girl that had been a thorn in his side for far too long.

Almost simultaneously, Mr. Lyle looked past the group of strangers and locked eyes with Jarod, almost oblivious to the young, dark-haired woman he had cradled in his arms. "Kill the others," he ordered, his words directed to his Slayer. "Kill everyone but Jarod," he added, his eyes moving until they locked on his sister's narrowed eyes. "Everyone but Jarod," he repeated as his Slayer burst into motion and hurtled across the garage.

"Uh oh," Jarod murmured as he quickly turned and finished the distance to the van, just as its side door rolled open, revealing Xander and Willow within. Without a word, the two teens quickly struggled with Faith's dead weight, pulling the unconscious girl inside before Jarod joined them in the confines, quickly followed by Miss Parker. Which left only Giles, his tall frame frozen beside the van's open door, his eyes locked on his Slayer.

With an inhuman speed that Giles recognized, he watched as Buffy darted towards them, pausing only when met with the forces of the Watcher's Council. But then, to his horror, he could only watch as Buffy _tore_ through the Council members as though they were a pack of vampires. No, worse than vampires or any demon she ever faced. Cringing, he watched in dumb horror as the group of men were dismembered before his eyes, his Slayer's movements so vicious and primal that the area was drenched in crimson. Soon, only Quentin Travers remained, his babbling pleas for mercy lost to his Slayer. Her face was an emotionless mask as her foot collided with his chest with the force of a semi, the wet sound of bones and tissues melding into one echoing in the room as the man who had been an adversary of Giles for so long flew back until his body collided with a concrete beam, the back of his head exploding on contact in a wave of red and gray matter.

Gasping, Giles felt himself begin to hyperventilate as Buffy's cold, deadened eyes locked with his own. Then, as she began towards them, her steps slow and deliberate, he felt arms wrap around him as he was drug back and into the van, the vehicle springing into action before the door was even closed behind him. Numb, Giles leaned back where he was placed, his eyes focusing on nothing as Jarod tried desperately to get him to control his breathing.

"Giles?" Willow asked frantically, her wild eyes dancing between the Watcher and Xander, his eyes just as panicked as her own. "Giles, what's wrong? What happened?" she demanded, her eyes finally settling on Miss Parker.

Sighing, Miss Parker tried desperately to silence the echoing screams of those men in her mind as she focused on the slim redhead. "Buffy was there," she replied simply, understanding that none of the teens had seen their friend... that no one had witnessed the ensuing bloodshed.

"Buffy was there?" Xander asked quickly, his eyes growing wide as he dove towards the front of the van. "Oz, man, you have to turn back!" he ordered, his voice desperate. "Buffy was back there!"

"No," Jarod countered as the van began to slow. "Keep going," he ordered, catching Oz's eyes in the rearview mirror.

And then, before Xander could protest further, Giles' quiet voice filled the van. "It wasn't Buffy," he murmured, his eyes locking on the hands that were curled in his lap. "Not our Buffy," he amended before slowly raising his eyes to look sorrowfully at Willow and Xander, the two members of the Scooby gang that had been with him from the start - that had been a constant in the lives of he and Buffy. "The Council was there as well and Buffy... Buffy tore through them like they were the worst sort of demon." Pausing, Giles considered his words before he quietly changed his statement. "Like she was nothing more than a demon herself."

At his bleak description, a thick silence fell over the van. Tears quickly filled Willow's eyes, falling unnoticed down her pale cheeks as Xander slumped back against the side of the van, looking as though his entire world had just crashed down around them. In a way, it just had. Oz was the one to break the silence as he timidly looked to Giles through the mirror above him. "So, am I supposed to be heading back to the apartment?"

"No," Jarod said quickly, hunching over as he moved to the front of the van and claimed the passenger seat beside the short teen. "Lyle will know about the apartment."

"The Watcher's Council will as well," Willow added, piping in from the back as she cast worried eyes to the quiet Watcher.

"Well is there anywhere else that we can go?" Miss Parker asked, voicing everyone's question aloud as she turned dark eyes to the Sunnydale crew. "Jarod's right in that my brother most likely had you all under surveillance from the time we first met until when he took Buffy. Wherever we go, it has to be somewhere that both the Watcher's Council and the Centre won't know about - someplace that you haven't visited or mentioned since that first meeting."

As a thick silence fell over the group, Xander shifted slightly from his place on the van floor, silently debating with himself. I... I think I know of a place."

* * *

Sighing, Mr. Lyle took in the carnage that surrounded him and his men, wrinkling his nose as he wiped away a bit of blood that had splattered onto his highly polished black shoes. "Well, Mr. Raines," he began, unperturbed by the bloodshed, "it seems as though your procedure was a success."

"An unequivocal success," Raines concurred, his eyes sweeping over the girl that stood at attention by his side. Smiling slightly, he noticed that during her massacre, she had somehow avoided getting a single drop of blood on her. She was good. His girl was good, alright. "So now what?" he rasped, his eyes sweeping back to the man that led the little group - the upper echelon of the Centre, what with both Miss Parker on the outside looking in and her father... well, if the video surveillance Angelo had found for him was correct, it seemed as though Mr. Lyle had taken care of his father himself. He had learned long ago that there was _nothing_ a Parker wouldn't do to ensure his position on the throne of the Centre.

"Well, unfortunately neither Jarod nor my sister will be stupid enough to return to any location that previous surveillance has revealed," Mr. Lyle admitted with a small scowl. "For now, we'll return to the hotel. They know that we have the Slayer and knowing Jarod, he and her friends will make themselves known soon enough. We just have to be ready for them," he said, smiling boyishly as he turned to Willie. "Therefore, I want another team sent out - at least ten men. I don't want any mistakes this time."

* * *

On rusted hinges the double doors swung open, admitting the large group into the abandoned building. First came Willow and Oz, bags of supplies and miscellaneous food stuffs in hand. Then came Giles, a stack of books piled against his chest as Jarod followed on his heel with Miss Parker trailing behind, phone pressed to one ear. Last came Xander, the comatose dark-haired slayer cradled in his arms.

Stopping in the foyer of the old mansion, Giles casually allowed his eyes to sweep over the empty room, memories of past times flitting through his mind. Torture at the hands of a monster, apocalypses, betrayals... this room, this mansion, had seen much heartache and irreparable damage during the stay of Angel and his demon counterpart. It had also seen much hope and unconquerable love. Sighing, Giles slowly closed his eyes against the memories as newer ones fought for control - memories of his beloved Slayer tearing through his fellow Watchers, bathing the cold garage in blood. For a second, Buffy's deadened eyes swam in his vision before he slowly pushed the memory away. Now wasn't the time for dwelling on the past, for whatever difficulties - whatever dangers they had faced in the past... they all compared little to what the group was facing today.

"Willow, Oz," he spoke, his voice sounding thunderous in the oppressive silence, "unload the groceries in the kitchen and find places for the rest of the supplies," he ordered, watching as the two teens disappeared down a darkened corridor. "Xander, put Faith in the bedroom over there," he continued, nodding towards the door off to his left where he knew Angel used to sleep. Then, alone with the two other adults that were caught up in this vicious game, Giles followed Jarod further into the room, bending slowly to deposit his heavy load on the small table that sat before a cold fireplace.

"Okay, Sydney is clearing out of the apartment as we speak," Miss Parker called out, joining the men in the living room as she slid her small phone back into her jacket pocket. "And yes, he's bringing the supplies that you wanted," she cut in before the question had even left Giles' mouth, smiling slightly before settling herself on a dusty couch. For perhaps the first time in a long time, the grime went unnoticed as she instead closed her eyes wearily, shifting slightly on the furniture.

And then the couch groaned once more as another weary body settled beside her. Without even looking, Miss Parker knew immediately who that body belonged to - knew it with every fiber of her being. "Sydney is going to take the girl and leave," she murmured, her voice filling the void as she slowly opened her eyes and turned to the Pretender beside her.

"How does he plan on getting her out of the city?" Jarod queried, unable to mask the concern he held for his mentor.

"I asked him the same thing," Miss Parker admitted with a small frown. "He said that it was a surprise - that we'd all see when he got here," she murmured, her frown deepening. Sydney knew that she hated surprises - had hated them from the day that her mother died. Since then, it was almost impossible for her to look at a surprise without wondering what horrible secrets it held, for rarely, in her opinion, could a surprise be good or innocent.

"Why did you come here?"

Startled from her thoughts, Miss Parker met Jarod's eyes once again, noticing the way they looked at her with such concern. Concern... now that was a laugh. After all, she was just doing what he had asked of her. Where was the pride that she had been expecting? Hoping for? Instead, his expressive brown eyes held only concern for the 'friend' that had spent the last four years making his life a living Hell. "An old friend convinced me that it was the right thing to do," she murmured, her voice soft as her eyes shifted back to the empty grate of the fireplace before them. "I figured that it was about time I tried doing the right thing... it seems that I've been doing the wrong thing for so long-"

"Not the wrong thing," Jarod countered as he shifted slightly, bringing him imperceptibly closer to the woman beside him. "Just what you thought was right. You've come a long way from the little girl that I once knew," he added, his tone thoughtful as he seemed to look at her, really look at her for the first time. "You got lost after your Mother died, and your father set you on the wrong path after that. You can't blame yourself for only finding your way back now."

Even as she understood the truth of his words, Miss Parker bristled at the slight against her father. It didn't matter that she knew her Father was inherently wrong, that he had condoned so many of the things that her mother had fought against... he was still her father, the only one who was supposed to love her in this cruel world, and she was still his Angel. But then, as she thought to the friends that she had made at the Centre, Sydney and Broots, and the man that she had spent so long chasing - maybe a father's love wasn't the only thing any longer. And then Jarod's words came back to her and a small, derisive laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. A laugh that was black and ugly with self-degradation. "Parker, you are an _amazing_ piece of work," she muttered quietly, her eyes flashing slightly. "It only took a girl getting her whole life torn apart for you to find your way back."

"Hey," Jarod said softly, finally closing the distance between them as he tentatively put a strong arm around her small shoulders. To his surprise and relief, instead of recoiling away from the touch, Miss Parker leaned into it, nearly falling against him as her soft cheek rested against his chest. "All that matters is that you found your way back. That's all that really matters," he whispered, his breath fanning against her cheek.

She knew that she should pull away, should let some cutting and sarcastic remark fly from her painted lips... but she didn't. She couldn't. This was the first time that she could remember being held like this, like she was important, since before Tommy's death. And she was so tired. Maybe she would stay like this, just for a little while until Sydney returned to them... just for a little while...

From a nearby doorway, Giles watched this display with shuttered eyes. As Xander moved into the bedroom doorway opposite of him, he quickly held a finger to his lips and waved the lanky teen over. Together, they left the Pretender and Miss Parker to their respite and moved further into the mansion, joining Oz and Willow in the kitchen.

"So, now what?" Xander asked, breaking the heavy silence in the room. "Jarod said that he may be able to reverse the drugs or whatever... so how do we get Buffy back without her killing us so we can try?" he asked, all humor replaced by a seriousness that was strange to see on the dark-haired youth.

"That is the million dollar question," Oz supplied, nodding his head slowly as all eyes slowly turned to the Watcher.

Sighing, Giles wearily lifted a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, that is the question," he replied, wishing he had the answer that they looked to him for.

"Well, let's break it down," Xander said, falling back on the barely remembered training that his experience as a soldier one Halloween provided. "What do they have?"

"Guns," Willow supplied, nose wrinkling slightly.

"Lots of men and resources," Oz added.

"And Buffy," came Giles' response, his tone hollow.

"Good. And what do we have?" Xander asked, his eyes searching those of his friends.

"Well, not the Watcher's Council," Giles quickly refuted, trying unsuccessfully to banish the memory of hearing Quentin Travers beg for his miserable life - all to no avail. His Slayer was not in the state of mind to be granting mercy. Actually, it didn't seem as though she were in her mind at all.

"We've got weapons," Willow added.

"Demon-fighting experience," Oz supplied.

"Demons, being on the Hellmouth and all," from Willow.

"-and the GI Joes," finished Oz with a small shrug.

"Okay, put it all together and what do we have?" Xander asked, turning back and forth from Oz to Willow.

But his answer came from neither of the teens as a slow smile began to lift Giles' lips. "We have the beginnings of a plan."


	28. Chapter 28

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 28  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

With a gentleness that he didn't entirely believe that she deserved, Xander lowered Faith's body onto the hard bed found in the back of the impressively large motor home. Sighing, he slowly straightened, his gaze taking in her slack features, pale skin, and lank brown hair down to the old pair of sweats. She was hardly recognizable to the fiery and lethal rogue Slayer - the one to whom he had given his innocence. Grimacing, Xander shook his head as he began backing away.

He had sensed the darkness in her, even then, but he had naively believed that it was a darkness that the girl could conquer. Apparently, he had been wrong - they all had, and that wrong had almost cost them the fight against the Mayor. He hardly believed that she deserved their help, not when one of their own had fallen and was still missing. Then again, how could you argue against not one, but five adults... and how could you argue against the Slayer dreams and the wishes of the best friend that may never return to them? At least, never return to them in the same way that she had left, taking a big piece of each of their hearts with her. Sighing, Xander turned away from the comatose girl and moved to the side door of the large vehicle, slowly stepping down the rickety stairs and joining the small circle of adults before brushing past them and inside.

"So where did you find this rig again, Sydney?" Miss Parker asked, eying the monstrosity that sat idling on the drive before them.

Smiling in that little benign way of his, Sydney slowly rocked back on the balls of his feet as he slipped his hands in his coat pocket. "I didn't - Broots did," he said even as Broots joined their little group, the computer technician chaffing his hands to keep them warm in the brisk January wind. It may be Southern California, but that didn't mean that the cold would be kept at bay forever.

Unable to mask her surprise, Miss Parker eyed the man, noting that for once, the tension that was a constant plague for the man seemed to be missing. If anything, this shocked her more than the other revelation. Turning your back on the Centre took guts. It was a move that was likely to get a bullet lodged in that back. And yet this man, this man that she had apparently underestimated, had done it just a few short hours ago. Had done it and come to their aid.

Seeing Miss Parker's expression, Broots shrugged, catching Jarod's small smile. "It was the least I could do after giving you guys up to Mr. Lyle," he explained, his face flushing for a moment before the cold wind stripped it away. "Besides," he added, his eyes slipping back to the open door of the rig behind him, "once he threatened Debbie, I knew that my time at the Centre was over."

Nodding in understanding, Jarod cast a quick glance at the darkened windows of the motor home. "How is Debbie?" he asked, the low timbre of his voice not meant to go past the small group of adults gathered in the dark night.

"Alright, I guess," Broots said with a small shrug. "Right now she's sleeping - the flight wasn't long, but I think she was confused. I.. I didn't really know how to explain it to her."

Sighing softly, Giles listened to this with a heavy heart. While he understood that these people were helping themselves just as much as him, he couldn't help but feel partly responsible for their troubles. Whether it eventually would have come to this or not, the fact remained that his Slayer was the catalyst for this man fleeing from his home and his job with his small daughter - fleeing right into the face of even greater danger. This time, at the direct hand of his Slayer. "Thank you again for everything," he murmured, his eyes catching each of the four adults in turn. "We wouldn't have been able to come this far without your help."

"Somehow, I doubt that you would even be in this position if it wasn't for us," Miss Parker murmured, speaking for her colleagues as she shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. "The Centre caused this and it's the least that we can do to try and make it right."

Nodding, Giles decided to leave the frustration, the guilt, and the apologies where they stood. They couldn't go back - they never could. Instead, they just had to keep moving forward and find a way out of the rabbit hole that they had unknowingly stepped into. "Yes, well, where are you taking her?" he asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence as he turned his eyes to the older man.

"It would probably be better for now if you don't know," Sydney replied, smiling apologetically at the Watcher. "We'll be in contact though," he said, and then watched as the man's face tightened imperceptibly. "I promise to take good care of her," he added, knowing what was on his mind. And then, before anymore could be said, Sydney quickly hugged both Miss Parker and Jarod, lingering a moment longer with his young protg.

"Be careful," Jarod whispered as both men disappeared into the monstrous vehicle seconds before it pulled away, leaving the three adults standing behind in silence. Silence that was quickly shattered as Miss Parker's phone began to ring shrilly.

Startled, Miss Parker retrieved the phone and held it to her ear. "What?" she demanded, old habits dying hard even as her small frown widened into an expression of confused surprise. Turning, she slowly pulled the phone away from her ear and held it out to Giles. "It's for you," she murmured as he stared at the phone as though it were a venomous snake. "It's the Watcher's Council."

* * *

Demon and human alike watched the man's entrance with undisguised unease, casually shifting to hide faces behind large mugs of beer and blood. His face was well known in their world, as in the past it had often been associated with the little blonde Slayer. Since her much publicized disappearance from the Hellmouth, the unease and fear of the man had only increased as he made his presence even more well known - on a much more personal basis.

"Er... Mr. Giles," the bar proprietor, known to many as Willie the Snitch, called out loudly, warning his patrons of the man that they now had in their midst. "Ah.. what can I do you for?" he asked, slowly putting the glass he was toweling down to the side, his eyes locking on the man that he had come to fear over the past few years.

Yet instead of answering, Giles pushed past the bar and continued back into the dark, shadowy recesses of the room, sliding into the stained booth opposite of a man he hadn't seen in too many years to remember. "Mister Samuel Fellows," he greeted, eyes noting how the long black hair he remembered was now cut short, cropped and graying at the temples while fine lines etched the corners of each eye. He had aged well, better than Giles had - then again, most of the aging that Giles had undergone had taken place during his time as Watcher to one Buffy Summers. The notable events such as the rising of a Master vampire, the onslaught of the much-feared Angelus, the destruction of a demon who had reached full-ascension... and the disappearance and subsequent... alteration, of his Slayer could do that to a man.

"Mister Rupert Giles," the man acknowledged, a small smile lifting his lips as he twirled the glass he held in his hands. "It has been a while, has it not, old chap?"

"A bloody long time," Giles agreed, fighting the smile that was threatening to break free. Despite their old friendship, too many things had gone down in the past year for him to be able to welcome his appearance with open arms. Too many things that all originated with a single man - a man that he had once believed that he could trust. "I was surprised to receive your call. How did you get Miss Parker's phone number? She mentioned that it was unlisted."

"The Council has its ways. And personally, I was surprised at your choice in a location for this little rendezvous."

"As was I to hear that you were in town," Giles quickly pushed on, strengthened by his friend's words. "Did you come with Travers?"

"No," Samuel denied, his expression tightening. "I came in case Mr. Travers failed."

"He has," Giles quickly supplied, his own eyes growing hard. "He's dead."

"I know," Samuel agreed, his lips turning down in a grimace. "It seems as though the Council has a bit of a dilemma," he admitted, casually leaning back as his eyes took in the man opposite him. "The head of the Watcher's Council and three of their number are dead, one Slayer is still missing, and the other has disappeared from her hospital bed. At present, I'm afraid that you had something to do with this, Rupert," he said, his eyes finally meeting the green eyes of his old friend.

"With Faith's disappearance, yes," Giles agreed, nodding slightly. "Travers, however, was done by Buffy."

"Buffy Summers?" Samuel asked, straightening in his seat as he shook his head slowly. "Your missing slayer?"

"Yes," Giles admitted with a small sigh, debating on exactly how much to share with his old friend - a debate that was over even before it began as the entire truth came spilling out. "We've just recently learned that Buffy was taken by an American corporation known as the Centre," he explained, eyes darting around quickly to assure that this information was only being shared with his fellow Brit. In Willie's bar there were too many patrons that would be more than interested to learn what had really happened to the much-feared Slayer. "They've done something to her, to change her," he added, his eyes growing shadowed, "and now she's being controlled by a man known as Mr. Lyle."

For a moment, Giles' statement was met with a thick silence as Samuel pondered his friend's words. "Then the situation is worse than we'd feared," he admitted, a small frown pulling at his lips.

"Yes, well welcome to my bloody world," Giles muttered, allowing his frustration at so many months of Council inaction to slide through as he leaned back against the hard wall of the bench he rest upon.

At least Samuel had the good graces to look contrite at his words as his eyes once more swept over the aging Watcher. "I truly am sorry, Rupe," he murmured. "I understand that you and Miss Summers were close."

With a small wave of his hand, Giles pushed away the man's sincere attempts to begin making things right between them. It was far too late for such small actions from the Council that he had sworn his allegiance to many long years ago. "What are you doing here, Sam?" he asked, falling into the familiar paces of their younger years.

Nodding his head, Samuel Fellows quickly got down to business. "As you should be well aware, there have always been two factions warring within the Watcher's Council: the one led by Travers and the side that you are more personally acquainted with. The one we've both been with," he amended with a knowing smile before his face turned grim once again. "With Travers gone, our side is making moves to take control once again, as it should have long ago. Yet neither faction can ignore the fact that the world is still in need of a Slayer-"

"You're not getting Faith," Giles interrupted, squaring his shoulders as he glared at his friend. And from the way that his friend's brow shot up quizzically, Giles knew he was as confused about Giles' sudden loyalty to the girl as were the others. All he knew was that Buffy's last coherent words were words that begged for Giles to help her sister slayer. And he wasn't about to let his Slayer down. Not again. Not ever again. "She's safe and you'll never find her."

Sighing, Sam nodded slowly, his eyes drifting away from Giles and back to his drink. "And I accept that," he said, startling his friend with his words. "Yet regardless, the fact remains that the world still needs a Slayer."

Confused, Giles slowly shook his head. "But you don't really believe that Buffy's death will cause another Slayer to be called, do you? Her death, albeit temporary, by the Master's hand three years ago already called her replacement in the form of Kendra. Kendra's death, in turn, called Faith. The next Slayer won't be called until Faith's own death."

"And of this, I am fully well aware," Sam retorted, a tentative smile lifting his lips. "Which means that we better find a way to get your Slayer back," he said, watching as Giles finally understood what he was really doing there. That for the first time, the Watcher's Council was there to lend their assistance. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

For a moment, Giles could barely dare to believe what his old friend had asked - until he realized who it was that was offering the assistance. By sending anyone else, the Watcher's Council risked Giles' wrath as knew that he could never again believe a word that left the mouth of a member of the Watcher's Council - not after Quentin Travers. But by Samuel Fellows coming, on behalf of the Council... now Giles truly believed that perhaps all wasn't lost after all. "Now that you mention it, yes, there is something the Council can do."

"Anything within my power," Sam assured.

"We need to get our hands on a quicker acting version of the Cruciamenturn drug - and we need it as soon as possible," Giles said, watching as a play of emotions flashed across Sam's face.

"Done," he quickly assured, his mind already working through the implications. "Do you still have the remainders from the test last year?" he queried.

"Back in my flat somewhere, but you might as well consider it out of our reach," Giles countered, shaking his head quickly. "The Centre will be watching it and will move in quickly - too quickly - upon first sight of someone entering. Will this be a problem?"

"No, it shouldn't," Sam assured, the skin on his forehead wrinkling slightly as he quickly worked on other avenues to acquire the drug. "Is there anything else?" he asked, returning his attention to his old friend.

"Not at present," Giles declined, "but we'll be in contact," he added as he stood, their business completed as Sam quickly joined him beside the table.

"Fair enough," Samuel concurred, shaking his hand in true British fashion. "And it really was good seeing you again, Rupe - good luck," he added as Giles nodded once and then turned away.

Without once looking back, Giles made his way through the bar and then out into the dark night beyond. Stilling on the empty walk, he took a moment to breathe in the clean, brisk January air before making his way to the rented sedan that idled a few feet away. Opening the rear door, he settled into the backseat beside Xander, pulling the door shut and meeting Jarod's eyes through the rearview mirror. With a small nod, Jarod quickly put the car in gear and pulled into the quiet night traffic.

"Well?" Miss Parker asked, swiveling in her seat beside Jarod to get a look at the tired Watcher.

"They're getting it," he replied simply, knowing instantly to what she was referring. "And have you all made any progress while I was inside?"

With a tight-lipped, calculating smile that was all too familiar to the Pretender that sat beside her, Miss Parker slowly nodded her head, her eyes locking with Xander behind her. "We've a few more details to work out with the others, but we should be set to go a little before sunset tomorrow night."

"Although we still haven't talked about how we're going to get the Centre there," Xander added, frowning softly.

This time, it was Jarod who responded, his expression grim. "That won't be a problem. I'm positive that Lyle will have surveillance there. Once we arrive, the Centre will be sure to follow."


	29. Chapter 29

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 29  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

As the blood-red sun began to set over the horizon, six people climbed from the dark van and made their way across the bulldozed plot. Warily, Miss Parker wrapped her long coat tighter around her slim form, her eyes darting around their small group. "I feel like we're being watched," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else as her eyes continued to take in the desolate landscape.

"That's because we _are_ being watched," Jarod said quietly beside her, nodding his head slightly towards the dark sedan that was parked further up the road, one of the men already on the phone and most likely making contact with her brother.

"Yeah, but it's not just the Centre," Xander added, having overheard Jarod's words as they finally stopped in the middle of the lot, what would have been around the kitchen of where the house once stood on Revello Drive.

"Xander's right," Giles confirmed, joining in the conversation as he dropped one of the large duffels that he carried. "Ever since Buffy's disappearance, Sunnydale's demon population has been.. well, celebrating her absence almost nightly. The same can be found at the site of the old high school, where the closed door to Hell itself stands."

Still unable to completely hop on the demon bandwagon, even after witnessing her first vampire, Miss Parker slowly nodded nonetheless. "When I first arrived the other day, those were two of the locations I drove past," she said, a frown pulling at her lips. "It was pretty obvious that there was something different about them... something wrong."

"Which is why we have these," Xander explained as he dropped a matching duffel to the ground at his feet. Kneeling down as though this was almost ritual for the Sunnydale crew, he quickly unzipped the bag and proceeded to unload various deadly weapons, from axes, swords, crossbows, as well as a few stakes and bottles of holy water. Snatching up a small sword, he moved towards Miss Parker, and with a big grin, seized the weapon by the blade and pushed the handle towards her.

For a moment, Miss Parker could only stare at the absurd choice in weaponry, one slim brow arching as she cast a pointed glance from the sword and back to the teen. "You've got to be kidding me," she scoffed, shaking her head firmly. Still, the teen didn't take the hint as he reached forward and seized her hand in his and forced the sword into her own. Grimacing now, Miss Parker eyed the weapon before quickly pushing it back at the boy, reaching to the small of her back and withdrawing her ever-faithful semi-automatic.

"Yeah, like that worked so well last time," Xander snorted, eying the gun before he finally took note of the stubborn turn of her chin. Sighing dramatically, he acquiesced and backed away, returning a moment later with a large crucifix. "At least take the cross," he pleaded, smiling as the stubborn woman finally relented.

Meanwhile, Jarod stepped forward and began pawing through Giles' bag of toys and surprises. With a childlike grin on his face, he finally found a weapon to his tastes as he backed away, a long broadsword in hand. Then, to everyone's amazement, he twirled the sword expertly in one hand, his eyes dancing with delight. "I got to be pretty good with one of these a few years ago," he stated absently. "I was doing a pretend as a knight in a traveling carnival. King Arthur taught me everything he knew in return for some help in getting legal ownership of the outfit."

Amused, Miss Parker carefully made her way to the Pretender, her eyes sweeping over the heavy sword. "I don't remember that one," she murmured, drawing his attention away from his new toy at last.

"You didn't think that I gave you hints to follow on _all_ of my pretends, did you?" he asked, a small smile lifting his lips. "Besides, that one was mainly for fun," he admitted with a sheepish grin - a grin that quickly vanished under a hard mask as three dark cars pulled to the curb before the house, releasing Mr. Lyle, Mr. Raines, Willie, Buffy, and ten other sweepers - fourteen adversaries in total as the two men on surveillance quickly joined the rest.

"Well that was quick," Oz muttered, summing up the thought on everyone's mind as the Sunnydale crew lined up side by side, facing the onslaught of Centre personnel.

It was the first time that any of the teens had seen Buffy since her disappearance over five months ago, and Giles felt their shock ripple through their line. "It's not her," he murmured, hoping his words would reach their ears. "It's not her," he repeated as he took in her deadened green eyes as she made her way to them.

"I know, Giles," he heard Willow murmur from down the line. "Buffy would never willingly wear her hair like that," she continued, causing a small smile to lift his lips as the group came to a stop a few short feet opposite them, finally meeting the cold eyes of none other than Mr. Lyle himself.

"Well, what do we have here?" the man asked, his smile malicious as he took in the group that dared to oppose them - six to their fourteen. Seriously, what did they hope to accomplish? "Not the best of odds for your team, for starters," he summed up with a charming grin that did nothing to hide the hardened look in his eyes.

"I wouldn't count on that," Giles muttered quietly, unable to stop himself as Lyle's eyes turned until they noticed Jarod's sword for the first time.

Obviously amused, the grin broadened as he really looked at the Sunnydale crew, taking in the assortment of primitive weapons. While it was true that each looked deadly in its own right, they would have to get in close to use them - a possibility that wasn't likely when faced with the guns that each of his people held. That, and the Slayer that stood by his side. Shaking his head, he allowed his gaze to settle on a slender redhead that stood between Jarod and a dark-haired boy, a girl so thin that it seemed as though the slightest breeze would blow her from her feet. Willow, he remembered, his eyes narrowing as he locked gazes with her. "I hope you know how to use that, little girl," he murmured, eyes raking over the crossbow that she held in her small hands.

Biting down on the fear that was beginning to consume her, Willow forced her chin even higher as she quickly cocked a wooden arrow into place, the sharp report echoing in the deepening night. Locked and loaded, she thought to herself, forcing her eyes to meet his.

Surprised at her spunk and starting to see how Buffy had rubbed off on the others, Lyle shrugged casually and turned towards the man that was quickly becoming the bane of his existence. "Well, Jarod, I guess it comes back down to this," he said, eyes flickering over the tall man, the evidence of his beating a few short days ago still apparent on his face. "It's time to come home, and you can do so the easy way or the really hard way. The easy way consists of you coming now, sparing these little friends of yours from getting riddled with bullets, and giving up the location of Sydney and Mr. Broots, who it seems disappeared from the Centre shortly after our own departure-"

"And what about me?" Miss Parker asked, a thin eyebrow arching at the man that had begun as a nemesis, changed to a long-lost brother, then to a thorn in her side... to this. "You're not forgetting about me, are you?"

Sighing dramatically, Lyle turned and finally acknowledged his twin. "Forget you Miss Parker?" he asked, snorting quietly as his eyes raked over her lean form. "How could I possibly forget about the last of the Parker line?" he asked, and by the way his sister recoiled slightly, her eyes growing wide as a gloved hand tightened on her gun, Lyle knew that she understood. "I could never forget about you," he hissed as he raised his gun and aimed it at his sister's heart - which was when a new voice rang out over the littered plot of land just as the sun set below the far horizon.

"DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND EVACUATE THE AREA _IMMEDIATELY_ BY ORDER OF THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!" a deep voice rang out, echoing over the plot.

Startled, Lyle and his men quickly turned, eyeing the group of six heavily armed and camouflaged men that stood behind them, large guns trained on their group. Simultaneously, another group abandoned the cover of nearby homes, long since deserted by their rightful owners, and joined the three groups on the small plot of land. Only this group was much larger and more unusual looking than the others - and very much of the local demon variety.

"Just on time," Xander announced, causing Lyle to focus on the wiry teen. "Evil Centre Henchmen, I'd like you to meet the GI Joes, here on their daily patrol route, as well as the Evil Demon Guys that.. well, that like to party here on any given night," he said, grinning broadly as Lyle's look turned murderous, eyes sweeping over the group opposite of him.

"You planned this," he whispered, eyes narrowing as the man he recognized as Mr. Rupert Giles, the Slayer's mentor, lifted a small gun from his pocket and fired quickly, the dart striking home in his Slayer's neck as the girl began to sway gently before falling to her knees. Furious, his command to fire was drowned out by the roar of the demons as they began to attack all those human, which unfortunately included the Initiative squadron, the Sunnydale quadrant, and his own Centre employees.

Cursing loudly, Mr. Lyle tried to back away, leaving the Slayer where she fell as his eyes swept over what had quickly become a battlefield. The government boys and the Sunnydale crew were obviously quite accustomed to this sort of fight as the two teams seemed to work in harmony, their weapons far more suited to this type of foe. His men, however, were dropping like flies as their small guns did little in the way of damage to the type of forces they were fighting.

"Damn them.. _damn them_!" Lyle roared, his body quaking with anger as he watched all of his carefully laid plans go crashing around him. Then, his roving eyes caught sight of a familiar figure as he watched Miss Parker fire shot after shot into an oncoming vampire, her weapon barely even slowly its pace before she finally threw it to the ground and withdrew a large cross from her coat pocket. Amazed, he watched as that small token not only stopped the approaching demon, but caused it to rethink its approach before abandoning his prey altogether, moving on in search of an easier kill - a kill that was never found as Jarod moved behind it, expertly swinging the sword and forcing the sharp blade through the vampire's neck, causing the thing to dissolve into a cloud of fine ash. Cursing, he quickly raised his gun and sighted the weapon on his sister's dark head. At least one good thing could come of this night, he thought before a man's muffled words broke his concentration.

"Buffy, I am so sorry," Giles murmured as he slipped seemingly unnoticed to the ground beside his slayer, gently lifting her chin and inspecting her emotionless face. "It was necessary-" he broke off as cold steel pressed against the back of his head, freezing his mumbled apologies to a girl who didn't even know he was there.

"Get to your feet," Lyle hissed, moving around his quarry, his eyes locking on the Watcher's as the man slowly did as ordered, his weapon lying forgotten and discarded on the ground by his feet. "Slayer, up," he commanded, smiling as the girl moved with feline grace to join them. And as his eyes turned back to the older man, he didn't miss the look of utter hatred and revulsion that bled across his features. "Did she ever obey you like this?" he asked, his voice low as the two became oblivious to the many battles that were being fought around them. "Did you ever know the absolute control over your Slayer that I do?"

"I never needed to control her," Giles quickly spat out, his gaze fiery as he clenched his hands into fists at his side. "She listened to me because she respected me and _not_ because of drugs or tortures."

"Then you never experienced obedience like this," Lyle replied simply as he lowered his gun, smiling at Giles' surprise before turning to his pet project. "Slayer, hold him," he ordered, and without pause Buffy was in motion, launching herself at Giles and shoving him back until he was pinned by the base of his neck in the shadows against a neighboring house.

Startled, Giles slowly shook his head before trying to push his Slayer away, only to find her to be unmovable. "B-but I don't understand," he stammered, his eyes frantically searching Buffy's. "The drug-" he continued, his words silenced by Lyle's cold laugh as he joined them in the shadows of the neighbor's home.

"Where did you think that we got the formula to the one drug sure to eliminate her strength?"


	30. Chapter 30

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 30  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

Grinning in a way that was pure Lyle, the man watched as the aging Brit struggled uselessly against his Slayer's hold, his smile turning feral. "Don't tell me that you never noticed that the leftover vial you had from that test went missing?" he asked, his eyes playing over the Watcher's horrified features. "The one that we heard so much about in hushed conversations between Buffy and her friends before she was even taken? Or did you honestly think that your Slayer had forgotten your betrayal?" he asked, watching as guilt flashed across the man's features. "Mr. Giles, we took that vial from your apartment before we even thought about taking her," he continued softly as he moved in close, standing right beside the pair. "The Centre was able to break it down and synthesize it. We've been using it on her daily for months - your drug enabling every single thing that we've done to her... but no one can stay on a drug that long without starting to build an immunity to it. Not even the Slayer," he continued, his voice low. "We've been steadily increasing the dosages in order to keep her weak... I guess your dosage just didn't take that into account," he said as he lifted the weapon that the watcher had dropped a few feet away, eyes tracing over its gleaming edge.

The knife's blade was long, at least six inches and curved in a deadly arc. It was a weapon that required close movement - a personal kill - a weapon that felt like an extension of Giles' own arm. A weapon that he had spent much time training his Slayer on, a point that quickly became apparent as she caught Lyle's toss easily, switching her grip until the knife was held against his throat. Giles hadn't even noticed that the man had stopped to retrieve it.

"How does it feel to know that your Slayer will be the one to cut you down?" Lyle asked, a twisted smile lifting his lips. As the man's eyes followed his every movement, Lyle shifted until he was situated directly behind Buffy, his hands resting on her small shoulders and his neck arching forward until his chin rested against her temple. "She's my Slayer now - has been for months," he murmured, his hands squeezing her shoulders in a display of ownership. And then, with a rakish grin he slowly leaned closer. "Did Jarod or Miss Parker mention all of the... fun that we've had?" he whispered, slowly turning his head to press his cold lips against her temple, his hands shifting down over her shoulders until they wrapped around her thin waist, stepping closer until her small body was pressed against his.

As a fury unlike anything he had ever known descended upon Giles, he struggled with it, barely managing to control the rage that threatened to consume him. He refused to give in, refused to dignify Lyle's words with a response. This was his Slayer, his Buffy that this man was talking about - that this monster continued to parrot and display before him. His Buffy that the man dared to put his hands upon... that he had done unmentionable things to. Still Giles refused to play party to the monster's sick game - refused to encourage him further. Plus there was always that small matter of the knife being held snug against his throat that prevented him from doing anything stupid, even if he had wanted to.

"Mr. Lyle," Raines quickly intruded, the aging man coming upon their small scene, beady eyes darting to the nearby battlefield as he beckoned Lyle to his side, his oxygen tanks laboriously drug over the pitted dirt.

Sighing, Lyle glared once more at the man his Slayer held captive before nipping her on the ear, all for the enjoyment of watching Giles squirm with a barely contained fury. As the saying went, if looks could kill... "Keep him still," he ordered before turning away, leaving Slayer and Watcher locked in a death hold.

As soon as he departed, Giles released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, only to capture it again as the blade nicked his neck. With steady breaths, he finally allowed himself to lock eyes with the girl before him, hoping desperately for any sign that his Slayer was really there - somewhere in there, locked far away. "Buffy, I don't really know if you can hear me," he murmured, his breathing shallow to avoid the painful sting of the blade, "but this may be my last chance to say this," he continued, idly realizing that it could be his last chance to say anything ever again, as his eyes darted nervously to the two men a few feet away.

"I... I'm sorry for everything that has happened," he whispered, his eyes dragging back until they were focused on Buffy's deadened green gaze. "I'm sorry for failing you... for not finding you sooner. I-I never gave up on you," he continued, unable to quell the tears that burned in his eyes, unable to fully mesh the girl that stood before him with the one that had always stood so tall as she faced hellish demon after demon, fight after fight. "And I'm so proud of you for hanging on for so long. For continuing to fight. And... I love you," he murmured, his eyes tracing over every feature on her beautiful face, committing it to memory. "I know that I'm not supposed to," he admitted, his words awkward. "I'm your Watcher and a Watcher is never supposed to love their Slayer. Train them, teach them, even fight for them... but never love them. But I do. I care about you and not about the Slayer," he admitted. "I-" he began, only to freeze as a single tear fell free from Buffy's green eyes, trailing down her pale cheek and splashing on the ground below.

"Not possible," Lyle murmured, having finished his conversation with Raines and returned just in time to witness the fall of the tear. "He said it wasn't possible!" he quickly fumed as the hand holding the knife to Giles' neck began to shake. "Kill him!" he ordered, even as the shaking in the girl's hand intensified, another tear adding to the one that had already dried. "Kill him now!" he shouted as Raines' assurances came back to him.

_... if any part of Buffy Summers does remain, and if she tries to fight against the drugs and wins... well, let's just say that she won't be around to enjoy it._

"If you don't kill him," Lyle quickly added, a smug smile lifting his lips, "then you'll only end up killing yourself." And while the girl's struggles didn't stop, he had obviously gained the attention of Mr. Giles as the man's gaze locked with his own. "She can't break it this time or it will destroy her mind," he added, meeting the man's green eyes.

Horrified, Giles quickly looked at his slayer once again. "Stop it, Buffy. Stop immediately!" he ordered, ignoring the fact that he was doing just what Lyle had been doing to her for so long - trying to control her. But as he said earlier, he didn't need drugs or torture to get his Slayer to listen. This time, he prayed that he was right in that assumption. To keep her safe, he would try anything. "Just please stop fighting it," he continued as her hand trembled against his neck. "We'll find another-" he broke off as he abruptly realized what he was asking his Slayer to do. By telling her not to fight against whatever was holding her mind at bay, he was telling her to allow herself to follow Lyle's command. He was telling her to kill himself.

For a brief moment, Giles stood in stunned silence as the full realization of what he was asking nearly overwhelmed him. While it was true that he had done a lot of stupid things in his youth, and even when middle-age had hit, he also knew without a doubt that he in no way possessed a death wish. He didn't want to die. Then again, he didn't want his Slayer dead either, which left him at a quandary of sorts. Yet it took only one more look into Buffy's green eyes, eyes that were now filled with pain, that made the decision for him. It seemed as though he had just gained his very first death wish - and all for the love of the girl that he had stopped seeing as a weapon, and had begun seeing as a daughter long ago.

"The others will find a way to reverse this," he continued as though he had never stopped, his words changing only subtlety - yet their meaning was clear. "Buffy, you must stop this at once!" he ordered as more tears coursed down Buffy's cheeks, soon mixing with a steady trail of blood that began to drip from her nose. Recoiling at the sight, Giles quickly renewed his efforts. "Jarod has done it before - found a solution for a little boy. Jarod can fix this!"

Yet as Buffy's hand continued to shake as though caught in the immense forces of a hurricane, Giles was once again reminded of a point that he had bemoaned of many times in the past: his Slayer never listened to him. Cringing, Giles realized that as Buffy was the strongest person that he had ever known, in mind as well as in body, there was no way for him to stop her from something once she put her mind to it. Therefore, in the end Giles could only watch in horror as she somehow managed to lower her hand from his neck, centimeter by slow centimeter. And then, as a single cry tore from her lips, Buffy turned away from her Watcher, blood streaming from her nose and down her chin as she doubled over, one hand still gripping the knife while the other pressed the heel of her hand tightly against her head.

"Buffy-" Giles began, his voice cut off as his Slayer slowly straightened, wild eyes locking on the man who stood frozen in place by shock beside her.

"I-I promised, long ago," she rasped as though her voice had been unused for too long... or used too much, staggering forward until she fell against Lyle, "that I would make an exception for you," she finished as she buried the knife to the hilt in Lyle, her arm wrapped around his neck and bringing them nose to nose. "I.. I keep my promises," she murmured as she used the last of her strength to twist the knife, the light going out of Lyle's eyes as he staggered back and then fell to the ground, taking her with him.

"Buffy!" Giles called frantically, breaking out of his stupor as his Slayer began to seize. Hurrying to her side, he quickly dropped to the hard ground, pulling on Buffy's arm until she was lying on her back beside him, her limbs flailing as her eyes rocked back into her head, showing only the whites. "Oh God, Buffy no," he whispered, trying to keep her from hurting herself until her jerky movements finally subsided, her body stilling as Buffy's eyes rolled over and locked on his own, the blood from her nose now smeared across one cheek and down her chin.

"Giles," she whispered, her voice weak as bloodshot eyes locked on his own, a sign of the many blood vessels that had burst beneath the intense pressure.

"Shh, Buffy," Giles whispered, oblivious to the tears that wet his cheek.

Ignoring him, Buffy smiled softly. "Thank you... for... setting me free," she whispered, forcing the words past numb lips as her eyes slowly drifted shut.

"No," Giles whispered, his voice hoarse as he reached forward, gently shaking her shoulders as her head lolled to the side. "_No_," he hissed, his tone venomous as he saw that she had stopped breathing, reaching forward to search desperately for a pulse that just wasn't there. "Buffy!" he cried again, unable to believe what he was seeing as he caught sight of a pair of dark, high-heeled boots beside them. Turning quickly, he found Miss Parker had joined them at some point amongst the drama, her face pale and eyes locked on her brother's bloody form... her brother's dead body. "Miss Parker," he snapped, freeing her from her paralysis as her eyes skipped over to the girl that he knelt beside.

"Oh no you don't," Miss Parker murmured, falling to her knees beside Giles as she confirmed the girl's perilous state. "We're not losing you now," she added before quickly bending forward, her dark hair creating a curtain around them as she breathed life back into the girl's body. Straightening, she began compressions as her eyes darted around the darkened plot. "Jarod!" she cried, her voice echoing out over the noise of the ongoing battle.

And then the Pretender was there, falling opposite of her and taking over for her breathing as she continued the chest compressions. "Someone call 911. Call 911!"

* * *

As the motor home rocketed along a dark highway, the body that had been still for so long suddenly arched in the air, atrophied muscles growing taught as she drew in one long, ragged breath before falling back to the hard mattress. Gasping, the girl's eyes opened wide, revealing dark brown orbs as they swept over the small room she rested in.

In seconds an older man was by her side, the hard bed shifting under his weight as he took in the young girl, a gentle smile lifting his lips. "Welcome back," he murmured, his words startling her as, obviously panicked, she tried to scoot away from the stranger. Yet after close to a year of lying comatose in a bed, she could do little more than rock herself gently. "Easy, easy now," Sydney assured, his voice soft as he placed warm hands on her arms, gently turning her chin until she was looking at him. "I am a friend, Faith," he murmured, his serene smile adding to the warmth in his eyes.

For a moment, the girl looked at him blankly before a small pink tongue darted out between pale lips, wetting down the cracked tissue. "But," she rasped, her voice cracked and brittle from months of inattention, "I'm not Faith."


	31. Chapter 31

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 31  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

With a weary sigh, Jarod stilled before the door, his hospital scrubs rustling softly as bloodshot eyes took in the notes on the clipboard that he held in his hands. Yet no matter how many times he looked at it, Jarod knew that the words would never magically change. Instead, Buffy's fate was spelled out with a cruel hand - a hand that even his skill was unable to guide. Closing his eyes, he took a minute to gather his wits about him, casually wrapping a gleaming stethoscope around his neck as he finally pushed open the door and joined the mob of people that littered the small room, all eyes instantly turning to him.

"Well?" Giles asked, speaking for everyone as he turned from the window he had been brooding beside, his features showing the wear of the past few days.

Pausing, Jarod fidgeted slightly, eyes locking with everyone in turn, from Giles by the window, Miss Parker in a chair in the corner beside Oz, Xander pacing down the other side of the room, to Willow perched on the end of Buffy's bed - the slight blonde slayer lying hooked to an array of different nodes and wires, all connected to various beeping machinery. His gaze settled on the girl's face, finally relaxed and cleared of all traces of what she had been forced to endure for far too long. "I'm sorry," he finally murmured, his gaze lingering on her still features. "There was nothing we could do. Right now the machines are the only thing keeping her alive."

"But.. but she'll be alright. I mean, you can make her better, right?" Willow asked quickly, her face paling as she desperately tried to grab onto one last hope - any hope she could find as her eyes skipped over to take in her best friend. It had been so long since she had seen her last - so long that Willow had begun to secretly take out pictures that she had of Buffy, burning the image into her mind - the one that had begun to fade.

Sighing, Jarod slowly shook his head, his brown eyes meeting the redhead's. "I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice catching slightly over the words, "but the monitors are showing no brain activity."

"Brain dead?" Giles surmised, hearing the words that he had been dreading ever since Lyle's threats had left his lips. Abandoning his post by the window, Giles slowly moved until he was standing beside Xander, who had joined Willow by the bed.

"Yes, I'm sorry," Jarod murmured, hating himself for having to deliver this news.

"Hey, I resent that remark," a woman's unfamiliar voice cut in from behind Jarod, causing him to quickly turn, eyes settling on the dark-haired girl that sat in a wheelchair in the open door, Sydney standing behind her.

For a moment, a stunned silence fell upon the room before Giles shifted, drawing the girl's dark eyes towards his tall frame. "F-Faith?" he stammered, eyes taking in the rogue slayer's pale features before whipping off his glasses and polishing them furiously.

Sighing heavily, the girl's full lips pulled down in an uncharacteristic pout as her eyes met the Watcher's. "I've already played this game," she complained, her voice slightly scratchy as she shifted in the uncomfortable chair. Sighing once again, this time dramatically, she slowly lifted her chin. "No, not Faith. Buffy," she said, her words once more causing a thick silence to fall over the room as what felt like a hundred skeptical gazes were thrown her way. Frowning slightly, she shook her head, dark hair fluttering weakly around her shoulders. "Okay, so not exactly the reunion that I've been imagining all this time," she muttered before a frown pulled at her pale lips. "Well, not that I had really thought that I was ever going to _get_ a reunion," she murmured, a stark pain flashing through her dark eyes for a moment before she forced a smile, "but if I had been planning it, this definitely isn't what I would have been imagining."

Yet the remembered pain wasn't hidden fast enough as Jarod took a halting step forward, eyes probing the girl before him. And then, as dark eyes shifted towards him, he felt the rest of his resolve melt away as he finished the distance between them and knelt on the hard floor beside her chair. He didn't know how it was possible, and even though his brain wasn't quite working with the rest of him at the revelation, Jarod did know one thing - he would recognize the haunted look in the girl's eyes anywhere. He had seen the exact same thing, eyes filled with that much pain, just a few short days ago when he had been imprisoned with Buffy in the Centre. Smiling, Jarod tentatively lifted one hand and placed it gently on her own. "Didn't I tell you that we were going to get out of there somehow?" he asked softly.

Smiling wryly in return, Buffy, obviously in Faith's body, gently squeezed his offered hand, dismayed by how that tiny effort cost her a great deal of energy. "Yeah, but I'm sure that this wasn't really what you had in mind," she said as she gestured to the weakened body that she inhabited.

Returning her grin, Jarod couldn't help his quiet chuckle. "No, not exactly," he admitted before gently pulling her forward into a small hug, noting how it was only minimally returned. Concerned, he pulled away, eyes taking note of her pallor for the first time.

But his inspection went unnoticed as Faith's dark eyes turned towards the other brunette who still sat in the dark corner. "Thank you for bringing my message to my friends," she said, her soft words reaching Miss Parker's ears as a small smile lifted the woman's lips. "You saved her life... I guess both of our lives, now," she amended with a weak shrug.

"You're welcome," Miss Parker replied in kind, her confusion pushed to the side for the moment as she nodded at the frail girl.

But Faith's eyes were already turning past Miss Parker until they rested on her friends, still silent and unmoving, standing beside the tall hospital bed. Tremulously, she tried smiling at them as tears burned her eyes, dark brown orbs meeting each friend in turn - the friends that she hadn't seen in months. The friends that had been the sole thing driving her while imprisoned at the Centre - their memory causing her to never stop fighting, even when there no longer seemed as though there was something to fight for. The ones she had never thought that she'd see again. First came Willow, the redhead's green eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her face a portrait of desperate hope. Then came Xander, a goofy grin straining to break free as his mouth continued to open and close like he couldn't think of what to say for the first time ever. And last came Giles.

Taking a ragged breath, Buffy felt her tears break free and stream down Faith's pale face as everything came crashing down around her - everything that she had lost. Unable to stop the tears once they started, Buffy couldn't help but think of the hell that she had endured alone for so long, couldn't help but think of her mother's eyes, filled with so much love as two bullets took the life from her in a spray of blood that would forever haunt her dreams. And with the memories came the sobs that shook Faith's emaciated form with a severity that rocked the metal chair that held her prisoner - just as drugs, chains, and beatings had held her prisoner for so long.

It was in that moment, as the unbridled pain filled Faith's dark brown eyes, that Giles was finally able to see past the rogue slayer to the girl that he had thought he had lost - to the little girl that had somehow found her way to a safe harbor from the storm of her own body. The girl that he had been unable to see for so long... unable to teach, care for, guide... and most of all, unable to comfort. With that thought Giles was released from his paralysis as he took step after halting step towards her until he stumbled to his knees before the slayer, his own hot tears blinding him. Reaching forward, he tentatively rested one hand on hers, just as Jarod had before him as he recognized his little girl locked within this new shell. "Oh God, Buffy," he whispered raggedly, his voice hoarse with emotion as he quickly pulled her forward and into his embrace, cradling her on his lap on the floor like a child. And as she burrowed against him, her thin frame all but lost amongst his embrace, Giles bent forward and rocked her slightly against him.

"I was so lost," she murmured, her voice soft and muffled against his shirt, damp with her tears. "So lost for so long," she murmured as she tilted her head up and locked gazes with her Watcher. "But then I heard your voice... you brought me back," she whispered before quickly burying her head against his chest once again, her small frame shaking with each teary breath.

And with her admission, Willow and Xander found their own release as they fell to the floor and added their own arms to the mix as the four friends sat together, hugging and crying and grieving for all that they had missed - they had been robbed of this chance for too long. In that moment, embraced from all sides by all those that were left to her in this world, Buffy finally felt like she was home.

* * *

With a tired sigh, Buffy rested her head against Xander's shoulder, silently thankful for his strong arm around her waist and Willow's warm hand squeezing her own, the floor cold beneath them and their backs resting against the wall behind. It had taken quite a while for everyone to calm down and for the group to get settled once more, Giles finally releasing her to her friends' care while he paced agitatedly before them. Smiling softly, she realized that he looked exactly as she had pictured him all this time, right down to the glasses that dangled from one hand... well, except for the redness that surrounded his puffy eyes. In all fairness, his eyes weren't the only ones sporting the new look, evidence of the tears - or from allergies, as Xander continued to argue at Willow's teasing, even though it _was_ in the middle of January. None of it mattered - not even the body that lay on the hospital bed beside them, apparently forgotten.

"Buffy, can you please explain what happened to get you like... this," Giles requested, pausing long enough to shoot the girl an apologetic smile.

Or not, Buffy thought with an amused smile as she shifted slightly, finding that even that small movement tired out her heavy limbs. It was a good thing that talking required muscles that hadn't been nearly as affected as the rest of Faith's appendages. At this rate, she doubted that she'd be able to even hold her head up much longer. Now where was that wonderful Slayer healing when you needed it most?

"Buffy?"

Oh right, question. Sighing, Buffy tried to focus on Giles' question, oblivious to her friends' concerned glances. "Whatever he did," she murmured at last, her voice quiet, "it hurt and I became... lost. I don't really remember much," she admitted with a small frown. "But then I heard Giles and I... it hurt," she continued, her voice faltering as Willow squeezed her hand quickly. Smiling at the gesture, Buffy marveled silently at the simple luxury of comfort - the kind of comfort that gives a person the strength to continue on. She had been missing that comfort for what seemed like an eternity. Always alone.

"And then what?" Giles persisted, dragging the dark-haired girl's attention back once again.

"Right, sorry," she murmured, shaking her head weakly as she focused her thoughts. "When I broke free there was so much pain... I couldn't really think past it," she murmured, her dark eyes ducking down to hide the truth - the truth that one thought had given her blazing mind focus. Without even trying, it was too easy for her to remember the feeling of the blade sliding into Lyle's stomach, the look in his eyes as she twisted the knife... and the satisfaction that welled up within her as she killed the man who had killed her mother. The man who had taken her away from all that she had loved and forced her to endure months of cruelty. The only man that she had ever truly feared. She had taken a human life, and the scariest thing about it was the realization that she didn't care.

"Buffy?"

"It was like I was being pushed out," Buffy continued, Faith's dark eyes lifting and flitting across the small hospital room, "and somehow Faith pulled me in."

"Faith?" Xander broke in tentatively from beside her, his voice questioning. Then, seeing the looks he was receiving, he quickly pushed on. "Well, I mean, obviously Faith," he added, waving his free hand at the pale form that he sheltered against his side, "but... well, isn't Faith Psycho-Evil girl? You know, the one who switched teams and tried to kill us all and helped the Mayor achieve big snake-dom?"

"No," Buffy quickly replied, a small frown pulling at her lips, an expression that was all at once familiar yet so strange to see on Faith's face. "Faith isn't crazy at all... not evil either," she added tiredly. "Just... misunderstood."

"Misunderstood?" Willow echoed uncertainly. "Buffy, don't you remember all that she did? She killed a man-"

And even though the words hurt to hear them, Buffy felt something deep within herself stir. "So have I," she murmured, her voice quiet as her eyes slowly turned until they were locked with her best friend's.

"Buffy I didn't mean that," Willow protested, her cheeks flaming scarlet. "Y-you didn't mean-"

"Willow, I meant to kill him," Buffy countered, unable to suppress a shudder at hearing Faith's voice deliver her message with such cold certainty. "And I don't regret it," she added, eyes turning until they locked on Giles' gaze. She couldn't read the expression hidden there, but she imagined that disappointment played a large role. "And you know what? He didn't get half of what he deserved," Buffy continued, unable to stop herself as she dared her Watcher to counter her words.

"Regardless," Oz added, breaking the thick silence that had fallen over the group as Faith's dark eyes shifted to him. "She still switched sides. Almost killed Angel. Would have if you hadn't-"

"We've all made a lot of mistakes," Buffy interrupted softly, her eyes darting back to Giles to ensure that he knew that she wasn't admitting to making one earlier that night. "All of us," she continued as her gaze finally turned to take in all those present. "And if she can forgive me for turning away from her, for making her feel like an outsider so that she had no one else to turn to _but_ the Mayor when things got rough, for not being there when she needed me most, and most of all, for coming so close to killing her and putting her in a coma for so long... well, if she can risk herself by helping like this, then I can certainly try to do the same. We all can," she added, daring her friends to contradict her.

"Risk herself?" Jarod finally asked, his brown eyes probing hers.

"Yeah, Faith's kind of letting me chill here for the time being," Buffy explained with a shrug as her eyes seemed to lose focus, her expression going slack. Concerned, Jarod was about to move forward when she seemed to snap back into reality once again. "But I don't think we have much time," she added, her expression turning even more serious as worry flickered in her brown eyes. "I think that Faith is getting ready to wake up, and when she does... well, I don't think I can hang around past that point."

"So why don't you just go back to your own body then?" Xander asked, her brown head turning to stare up at him with an expression that gave him the chills when coming from Faith's face. "'Cause I gotta admit that this whole Buffy in Faith's body... well, kind of givin' me the wiggins'," he admitted with a small frown.

Returning his frown, Buffy arched an eyebrow in a gesture that was all Faith. "Yeah, well you tell me how and I'll just get crackin'," she retorted, instantly regretting the harshness of her words as Xander flinched as though she had smacked him upside the head. Sighing softly, she smiled apologetically at her friend. Here she had missed her Xander-shaped friend for so long, and what's the first thing she does? Bite his head off. Really off to a great start there. But in her defense, excluding the short conversation she had with Jarod while in the Centre, this was the first time that she actually had the chance to really converse with people in... well, since her capture. Apparently she was a bit rusty on the whole communicate with people aspect... or maybe it had been so long, and so much had happened, that she had forgotten how - or lost the ability completely.

"I don't think it's that easy," Jarod finally added, breaking Buffy from her thoughts as her dark eyes quickly settled on his. "Buffy, when you fought whatever Raines did to you, it fried your neural pathways," he explained slowly, his expression solemn. "And while it _may_ be possible to fix that damage, I wouldn't even know where to start when it came to getting your.. well, _you_, back where you belong. I'm afraid this is way out of my league and further than any training I've undergone," he admitted as he turned to Sydney, the words unfamiliar to his lips. He had never before been faced with a task that he couldn't handle and it felt foreign to admit that in this case, he was truly helpless.

Nodding slightly, Sydney slowly leaned forward in the stiff chair he occupied, his hands resting on his knees. "I have to agree with Jarod," he said, his accented words carrying softly in the room. "This is outside anything that I've ever seen before. It should have been impossible for Buffy's mind to jump to another body like she did. It _is_ impossible."

Sighing, Giles could only shake his head absently at the older man's words. "If there's one thing that I've learned during these past few years in Sunnydale, it's that anything is possible on the Hellmouth."

"While we're not doubting that," Miss Parker added as she fiddled with a pen absently, her mind trying to block out the image of the monsters that they had faced only hours before, "how does your Hellmouth theory explain this?"

"Not the Hellmouth," Buffy interrupted, her voice firm. "Not this time."

"No," Giles concurred, his eyes flickering back and forth between Faith's dark form and the small girl that rest in the bed beside him. "No, in this case I'd imagine not. The slayer link between Faith and Buffy must be stronger than anyone had even imagined - strong enough to enable the transfer."

"Which is still all well and good," Buffy added, "but once more, how am I supposed to get back when my brain gets fixed? _If_ it gets fixed," she amended, her eyes darting to Jarod before focusing on Giles once more.

Feeling the hope of his Slayer lying with him, Giles tried his best to look both encouraging and reassuring. "We'll think of something," he murmured, almost awkwardly as he quickly whipped off his glasses and began polishing them like mad once again.

Seeing this gesture and Buffy's, or rather, Faith's tell-tale frown, Willow quickly squeezed her hand. "Hey, we'll hit the books while you're getting your brain fixed. It'll be just like old times!... well, except for the whole fixing of the brain," she amended weakly.

"Speaking of which," Xander cut in, his expression turning uncharacteristically serious... or at least, what Buffy considered to be an uncharacteristic trait. For the others, Xander's seriousness had been a sad example of how trying the past months had been on them all. "Has anyone thought about who we're going to get to fix Buffy's brain? I mean, I don't really think Sunnydale's MDs have the kind of experience I'd trust, and I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't happen to know any brain doctors."

"Yes you do," Miss Parker broke in with a small smile as she nodded towards the quiet Pretender.

"Are you serious?" Xander asked for all of the Sunnydale contingent, a new respect shining in his eyes as he eyed the tall man.

"Well, I'm going to have to study up a bit," Jarod admitted with a small shrug, his eyes glancing over to lock with his mentor. "It's been awhile since I've played a neurosurgeon."

"For some reason, 'play' and 'neurosurgeon' just shouldn't be used in the same sentence," Buffy groaned as she leaned heavily against Xander. "This is my _brain_ we're talking about here, people!"

As though seeing her weariness for the first time, Giles nodded his head curtly and crossed the distance to her in just a few long strides. "In the meantime, let's get you somewhere to rest while the rest of us start searching for a way to guide you back," he stated as he gently lifted the girl, ignoring her soft protests before he deposited her back into the wheelchair's unyielding confines. "We'll find a way," he murmured, his eyes catching hers and reading the worry that was portrayed in her dark brown depths - so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. "We didn't get you back just to lose you now," he vowed before arching forward and planting a soft kiss on her temple.

"I know," Buffy whispered in response, her eyes tracing over Giles' tired features. "I know and thank you," she added, meaning so many things with those two simple words before Xander quickly took control of the chair.

"Alright troops, let's head out," he cried out as he pushed the chair into the hospital corridor beyond. "We've got work to do."


	32. Chapter 32

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 32  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

With a gentle care that seemed almost foreign to her, or at least to the image that she portrayed, Miss Parker closed the bedroom door with a soft click. Not even Broots could understand the strange bond that she shared with his small daughter, but try as she may to avoid it, the little girl had wormed her way into Miss Parker's cold and empty heart. And now that she was there, Miss Parker was loathe to admit that she wouldn't have it any other way. While she displayed a cold indifference to the child while in the presence of others, alone with Debbie she could finally allow the walls down for a brief moment - walls that hadn't been lowered since Tommy's death.

Sighing, Miss Parker left the door and moved down the short hall until she was standing in the entryway to the living room of the large mansion. The scene before her caused a small smile to lift her lips, as it was a picture of utter chaos and confusion - a chaos that the others seemed to thrive in. After leaving the hospital, the group had decided to return to the old mansion that contained so many of the books that were going to be needed. Since then, the group had quickly set to work to clear the massive table that had sat to one side. Then, within minutes its surface was scattered with medical texts before Jarod and with what the others had described as demon texts, magic books, and Watcher's diaries - all spread before Xander and Oz who were busy flipping through the old tomes. Adding to the chaos were two laptops set up in a miniscule clear spot on the table, Broots and Willow working side by side through wireless internet connections and pouring through databases, fingers flying faster than her eyes could follow. In the main bedroom off of the living room, Miss Parker knew that Sydney continued to work with Buffy, trying his hand at physical therapy in hopes of starting the long process of getting Faith's body back in shape - though according to the others, the timeframe for Faith's atrophied muscles to regain their usual strength would be far less than for anyone who wasn't a Slayer.

It seemed that everyone had a purpose and mission in their quest to find a solution. While Jarod worked at gathering the information needed to fix the damage done to Buffy's brain, the others worked on finding a way to get her back into her own body before Faith decided that it was time to leave her coma behind and join the land of the living - something that was bound to happen sooner, rather than later, according to Buffy. And seeing as how the girl was currently occupying the comatose slayer's body, they weren't really in a place to argue the validity of her statement. They just had to work quickly... which left Miss Parker with the realization that in this case, she was useless - a feeling that she wasn't accustomed to.

Sighing once again, Miss Parker's eyes roamed across the people that she could no longer classify as strangers, not yet friends, her eyes finally taking note of the one person that seemed to be absent. Frowning slightly, she stepped further in the room, her eyes catching movement from the windows that adorned the glass doors that led out to a garden, long since withered in the cold January weather. Without making a conscious decision, she crossed the living room in a few long strides and slipped unnoticed from the mansion, her brown eyes lighting on the figure who stood alone, his eyes staring at nothing while his wire-rimmed glasses dangled from one hand. "Giles?" she asked, her voice causing him to start, turning quickly with a question in his green eyes. "What are you doing out here?" she asked as she crossed her arms across her chest, shivering slightly in the chill air. "Without a coat, no less," she added as she eyed the thin sweater that adorned his lean frame.

"Thinking," Giles replied as he slowly replaced his glasses on their usual perch. "And you?"

Shrugging slightly, Miss Parker stepped further into the garden, her eyes drifting up until they locked on the sliver of a moon so high above them. "I guess I'm out of my element," she admitted with a small frown, eyes tracing the invisible lines of the many constellations that dotted the heavens above.

Nodding in understanding, Giles slowly turned, his eyes alighting on the back of the Pretender that sat on the other side of the glass that divided them. "Can Jarod really do this? Repair the damage that has been wrought?" he asked the question that had been on the tip of his tongue ever since he learned of the damage that had been done to his Slayer - to Buffy.

Turning, Miss Parker followed Giles' eyes, hers taking in his broad shoulders and the soft tufts of hair that spiked in all directions. "If anyone can, it's Jarod," she admitted, startled by the feelings of warmth that stirred deep within her cold heart - feelings that she dared not acknowledge - feelings that she barely recognized as it had been so long since she had felt anything like it. Sighing, she closed her eyes and wondered idly why her thoughts kept returning to Tommy this night. Was it because of the decisions that she had made? The ones that had finally turned her forever away from her life at the Centre and more in the direction that he had wanted for her - the direction that her mother had always intended for her to take. Or was it another man that caused her to remember the first man that she had ever loved? In either case, her dead love haunted her this night and she didn't know whether to be comforted or frightened by his presence.

Shaking away her heavy thoughts, Miss Parker turned her attention back to the man that stood beside her. "Can you really help guide Buffy back?" she asked, returning his question and hoping for the same assurances. Yet as his expression fell, a tired hand lifting to massage a lined forehead, Miss Parker knew she had her answer.

"Quite honestly? No," he replied, his tone hollow. "None of us have the magical abilities nor the knowledge of such a spell that could work. I know without looking through the tomes that we have nothing here in Sunnydale that could help... however," he added, his expression turning thoughtful, "I may know of someone who can."

* * *

Blowing a frustrated sigh through pinched lips, Buffy's gaze skipped to the large clock mounted on the wall across from her for what had to have been the thousandth time that hour. And like always, to Buffy it seemed as though the hands on the clock were moving with a slowness that was absurd, at best. Forcing her eyes away, remembering her mother's old adage of a watched pot never boiling, she turned back to the magazine that sat on her lap - the magazine whose page hadn't been turned in the past hour. And then, with another glance at the wall clock, Buffy finally had enough. "It's been over eight hours, already!" she whined, her voice sounding like a thunderclap in the hospital waiting room, the eyes of her friends and strangers instantly turning towards her.

"Are you tired?" Giles quickly asked, his voice low and full of concern as he began towards her. "Should we bring you back to the mansion?"

"No, no," Buffy quickly argued, her pale hands lifting and waving her Watcher away before weakly reaching back and tucking a dark strand of hair behind her ear. "This is my brain we're fixing," she added with a small frown. "It's not like I can leave now."

At the confused glance of another hospital patron, Willow quickly babbled nervously. "She and the patient are really, really close," she tried to explain as the person discreetly gathered their things and then moved to another set of chairs across the room.

Unconcerned, Buffy shrugged at her Watcher's glare before her attention was drawn to the tall man who wearily entered the room, his hospital scrubs immaculate. At that thought, a small grimace creased her features. At least Jarod had the decency to change before coming out to give them the news. She didn't think that she could have stomached the sight of the Pretender covered in her blood or brain matter. That would have gone beyond the rapidly approaching line of too weird for comfort.

Following her gaze, the rest of her friends slowly climbed to their feet, their expressions anxious as Jarod collapsed in Willow's recently vacated seat.

"Well?" Buffy finally asked, unable to stand the tension as her fingers nervously began shredding the magazine page.

Sighing, Jarod slowly rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the kinks that eight hours of surgery generated. "The surgery went well," he said, pausing long enough to answer the girl's unasked question.

"Well goodie," she replied, her tone sharper than she had intended, "but were you able to make my brain work or not?"

"I think so," Jarod replied with a tired frown, "but when it comes to the brain, you can never be completely sure. I can say for certain that everything went as we expected - better even, and I think we were able to repair all of the damage that was done. However, the only real way to know for sure is to see what happens when you get back into your own body." At the heavy silence that fell over the group, Jarod couldn't help but wish that he had better news to give them. "Would you like to see... yourself?" he asked, stumbling over the oddity of the words as he met the girl's dark brown eyes. "She'll... you'll, ah, be under the effects of the anesthesia for quite a few hours yet, but you can see ... her, if you'd like."

Grimacing, Buffy quickly shook her head. "If it was that hard for you to get the words out, then you can imagine how weird it'd be to actually see... myself," she murmured, her nose wrinkling slightly. Once again, everyone was struck by how odd it was to see an expression that was so Buffy on the face of Faith, the girl they had all come to fear. "'Sides," Buffy added, oblivious to her friends' discomfort, "it's not like there's anyone really there to visit anyway," she murmured, the group falling silent until a startled gasp brought all eyes to the Slayer once again, her pale features twisted and her mouth hanging slack in horror. "You didn't have to cut my hair, did you?" she squeaked, her grip tightening on the magazine as Willow quickly hid a snort of laughter behind one hand.

"Ah," Jarod mumbled, faltering at the panic that was consuming the girl. "Honestly? Well, no, we didn't cut your hair," he said, grinning slightly as Buffy sagged in relief. "We shaved your head," he added, the entire group laughing as Buffy nearly fell out of her chair, her brown eyes wide and unblinking.

"You shaved my head?" she groaned, weakly lifting a hand to her current head-full of brown hair. "I'm bald?" she added, moaning quietly.

Snickering at his slayer's distress, Giles turned away as he heard a throat clear pointedly behind him. Startled, his gaze swept over the two men, one dressed in a starched business suit while the other drifted in a flowing set of robes of the deepest black. "Samuel," Giles greeted, his eyes lighting briefly on his friend before turning his gaze pointedly to the stranger beside him.

"Rupert," Samuel acknowledged with a small nod before turning to his companion. "I would like for you to meet Mr. Magnus Fletcher."

But instead of shaking the man's outstretched hand, Giles quickly turned back to his old friend, his eyes blazing. "I don't understand," he quickly protested, "I was expecting-"

"I'm sorry, old friend, but he was unable to make the voyage," Samuel quickly explained, his eyes drifting back to the group that watched them. "He was able to find a spell, but things aren't... well, back home," he added, eyes returning to the Watcher. "However, Mr. Fletcher comes on his personal recommendation in his stead. He really is very talented - he can do the spell."

Sighing, Giles knew that arguing was fruitless. They would just have to be grateful for any help that they could get. "Very well," he acknowledged before beckoning the men to join the little group that had tried their hardest to eavesdrop from behind them. "Buffy," he said, meeting the rogue slayer's curious brown eyes, "I would like for you to meet Mr. Magnus Fletcher and Mr. Samuel Fellows, the new head of the Watcher's Council."

For a moment, Buffy sat in silence as her dark eyes locked on the tired eyes of the stranger. "So, you're Giles' friend?" she asked, skipping right to the point, her patience long since lost.

"Old friend, yes," Samuel replied simply, resisting the urge to turn away from the girl's piercing stare.

"And you've come to do the hocus pocus to get me back to where I belong?" she persisted, arching a fine brow in his direction.

Even in this new body, it was easy for Samuel to recognize the fiery slayer that Giles had spoken so much about, so fondly of, in his diaries for the Council. Right away he saw the spirit that he knew Travers' had despised and the will that had allowed this mere slip of a girl to survive far worse encounters than many of her predecessors. "No," he finally replied, answering the girl's question. "It will be Mr. Fletcher who will be doing the actual spell-casting."

And then his attention was drawn to the slim redhead that bounced on the balls of her feet, her green eyes shining with excitement. "Ooh, magic!" she squealed, earning herself a sharp glare from the group. Ignoring them, she turned eager eyes to his companion. "Do you need any special supplies for the spell? 'Cause we have a really cool magic shop in town that sells the best kind of witchy stuff - any ingredients that you need!"

For a moment, Fletcher looked at Willow with obvious confusion, his brow crinkling slightly as he shifted his hands inside his voluminous robe. "I'm not doing a potion," he murmured, his British accent clipped while he withdrew a tightly rolled scroll in one hand and a long, thin piece of wood with the other. "This is all I need."

Now it was the Scoobies' turn to be confused as Xander stared at the tiny of piece of wood. "That unsharpened and overgrown pencil is all you need?" Xander asked skeptically as he stepped forward to inspect the piece of timber. "It wouldn't even make a good stake!"

Sighing, Giles wearily shook his head as his fellow Brits looked at the teens with amusement. "Not a pencil, Xander," he said, his tone indicating that he was reaching the end of his limit. "It's a wand."

"Ooh, a magic wand!" Willow squealed yet again, causing Giles to sigh even more dramatically. And then, the redhead's excitement died away as she turned back and forth between aforementioned wand and to the Watcher. "Wait a minute, how come he has a wand? More importantly, why don't I get a wand? And why don't you have a wand?"

Before Giles' could respond, Buffy quickly jumped in, her eyes darting between her Watcher and the strangers. "And since when do people need a magic wand to do magic?" she asked, her eyes searching his. "And why didn't we know about this?"

Sighing again, Giles brushed away their questions with a wave of his hand. "A story better left for another time," he said, his eyes pleading with Buffy to listen to him, just this once.

And amazingly enough, his slayer did just that as she shrugged her borrowed shoulders. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's do it."

"I beg your pardon?" came Giles' stammered reply, obviously flustered yet again. "Now?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Jarod began, his forehead wrinkling as he went to make his protests.

"Hey," Buffy interrupted, all eyes returning to the worn slayer. "Do I really need to remind you all that it's not as though we have a lot of time, here? Remember? Faith wanting to wake up soon?" she asked as she paused, her brown eyes losing focus for a moment before clearing once again. "And that would be an affirmative," she added, a small frown pulling at her lips. "I'm definitely wearing out my welcome - Faith can't stay back much longer," she murmured, feeling the truth of her words with every fiber of her being. Faith's body was nearly screaming this fact to her. Turning, her eyes drifted over the man in the funky clothes. "So, can you do the mojo now?" she asked, straight to the point.

"Whenever you are ready," Fletcher affirmed with a small nod.

"Good, then let's get this show on the road," Buffy said, her voice hard as she slowly got to her feet, her legs trembling beneath her weight.

Instantly Jarod followed suit, one arm wrapping around the girl's waist and helping to support her. "Alright then," he said, knowing that it was no use arguing. If there was one thing he had learned about Buffy Summers during the short time that he had known her, it was that without a doubt if she got something in her head, there was no getting her to back down from it. Even if it was a risk to her own well-being. From the way that Buffy kept disappearing into herself and coming back with dire predictions of Faith's eminent return... well, maybe she understood her precarious position a little better than the rest of them. He'd just have to trust her that she knew what she was doing. They all would. "Just follow me," he sighed as he turned and began making his way across the room, supporting Buffy as they went, aware of the group that rose as one and began following him.

"Perhaps it would be best if the rest of us waited out here," Samuel's voice rang out, interrupting the group's progress. Ignoring the frustrated and annoyed glares he was receiving, he quickly continued. "It really is a very difficult spell and Mr. Fletcher is going to need all of the concentration that he can muster."

"And how come he gets to go?" Xander whined, nodding towards Jarod's departing back - only to still as Jarod paused at the open doorway, his hand indicating something down the hall before Fletcher took over as Buffy's support, freeing the Pretender to come back and join them in the waiting chairs. "Okay, shutting up now," Xander sighed, finally relenting as he prepped himself for yet another long wait.

* * *

As they entered the hospital room, Buffy couldn't help her morbid curiosity as she abandoned her support and moved on shaky legs until she was standing beside the only bed with an occupant. As Fletcher moved behind her and began preparing for the spell, Buffy slowly lifted her hand - Faith's hand - and gently reached forward and laid it softly against the cheek of the girl that lay sleeping in the bed before her. No, she laid the hand on _her_ cheek. It was the weirdest, most disturbing thing she had ever seen to see her body lying before her, still and unmoving with only the steady rise and fall of her chest to indicate that there was still life. At her earlier insistence, her body was clothed in a green pair of hospital scrubs, at least sparing her the humiliation of the backless gowns most patients wore. Yet her skin was deathly pale and dark rings lined her closed eyes - not to mention the mountain of bandages that completely encased her head in every place but her face. Yep, that would be the result of intense brain surgery, would it not? It was strange, she had never known anyone that had undergone brain surgery before, yet here she was... or rather, there she was, laid up with the evidence of the procedure all too apparent. And despite everything, despite that it was like looking in a mirror but not... the person on the bed seemed a stranger.

Startled, Buffy quickly withdrew her hand as though burned. Idly, she realized that this was the first time that she had seen herself since before she was taken. This was the first time that she had seen her reflection, a thing that she had always taken for granted, in over six months. And while one would think that she would be gratified by the sight of her body before her, Buffy instead slowly began backing away, unable to fully understand the feelings that threatened to drown her. For excluding the bandages that encased her head, she looked just as she had always looked - a fact that immediately struck her as so wrong she couldn't even begin to fathom it. After all that she had been through, after months of endless torture and after everything that she had lost, it felt like there should be scars on her body to match the scars that she knew she carried within. It seemed wrong that her body carried no evidence of the hells that she had endured - as though it had never happened. It almost made her time in the Centre seem trivial - unimportant. As tears burned her eyes, she couldn't help but think that she should be just as marked on the outside as within.

"You may want to lay down," Fletcher spoke softly from behind her, interrupting her reverie as he indicated the empty hospital bed that lay adjacent to her own. At her questioning look, he quickly explained what should have been obvious. "When you wake up next, you will be in your own body, still suffering from the effects of an intensive surgery. It may be quite a while before that happens, and in addition, until Miss Faith awakens, there will be no one to take control of her own form."

Sighing softly, Buffy quickly did as ordered, accepting the man's help into the hard bed, lying still and tilting her head until her brown eyes were locked on her own form. "Let's do it then," she murmured, eyes never wavering from her own unmoving body.

Nodding once, Fletcher used a couple of bandage packages to weigh down the ends of the aged scroll, lying it open before him, his lips moving silently as he ran through the words of the spell once again, assuring himself that he had the pronunciations in order. Then with a soft sigh his eyes slipped shut, his mind stilling as he cleared everything away except for the well of power that he contained within himself. Concentrating on that source of power, he allowed his eyes to open once again, lifting his wand before him.

"Lux lucis Addo quod Atrum Addo,  
Exorior mens cuius somes est inops,  
Veho suus ex obscurum quo est inopis,  
Veho suus mens continuo quod ut somes ut exspecto,  
Restituo quod iunctum utriusque mens quod somes."

As the last of the old Latin words fell from his lips, a blinding light flew from the tip of his wand and connected with the temple of the dark-haired slayer. Then, another burst of light flew from that point and connected with the temple of the blonde-haired slayer before joining with his wand once again, forming a triangle of light between the three points. As sweat poured down his cheeks, Fletcher continued to murmur the words of the spell, unaware of everything around him. Then, at the pinnacle of the spell both slayers' bodies arched in the air, muscles taught and mouths open in silent screams before they collapsed back onto their hard beds, the light dying away.

Gasping for breath, Fletcher fell back against the far wall of the room, feeling exhausted and completely spent from his efforts. Samuel Fellows hadn't been lying when he said that the spell was difficult, and even Fletcher himself had been unaware of exactly how much concentration and energy it would take. He just had to hope that it was enough. Sighing, he slowly straightened, pulling his robes back into place as the door swung open beside him. Startled, he watched as two men swept into the small room, one tall and black and dressed in an immaculate business suit while the other was old and bent, towing two small oxygen tanks behind him.

"Excuse me," he began, his words dying away as the black man calmly lifted a small black gun, the end lengthened by a piece of metal. Confused, he looked at the strange object blankly before a soft report and a whistle of air erupted from the object, ending his life in a spray of blood as a single slug tore through his chest and sent him tumbling to the ground in a quickly growing pool of his own blood.

Moving quickly, Raines crossed over to the bed of the blonde girl, his eyes taking in the machinery that recorded her vitals. Smiling grimly, he noted that Jarod seemed to have done good work, for not only was the girl breathing on her own, but the brain monitor was recording movement. He beckoned Willie to his side and the men quickly rid the girl of all nodes and modules before the black man swept the small girl into his arms. Together, they quickly moved towards the door, Raines stopping only briefly as his eyes swept over the dark- haired girl that lay unmoving in the other bed. He recognized her from the previous night at the hospital - the night that the Slayer had showed her true prowess. Curious, he nonethless shrugged his shoulders before leaving the room, Willie in tow - neither noticing as the girl's dark lashes slowly began to flutter.


	33. Chapter 33

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 33  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

Sighing softly, Miss Parker slowly turned from side to side, trying to work the aches from her tired muscles as she cursed the hardness of the unforgiving chairs. To think that the hospital would have made at least a little bit of effort to create a more comfortable atmosphere for a room in which people were destined to wait for long periods of time. Then again, this _was_ Sunnyhell they were talking about, and not a Centre facility. Grimacing at that thought, Miss Parker stilled as she realized that had it been a Centre facility, all traces of comfort would be missing. Sighing again, she shook the troubling thoughts away as she slowly rotated her neck, grimacing at the pains shooting through her tired limbs.

"Tired?" a soft voice asked from behind her as large, gentle hands settled on her aching muscles, skilled fingers working through the hard knots.

Sighing again, this time in pleasure, Miss Parker's eyes drifted shut as Jarod's hands worked magic upon her... until the realization sunk in that it was indeed Jarod behind her. Frowning, she quickly pulled away, dark eyes locking on his amused grin before she scowled at her tormentor. Even when they were on apparent same sides she still couldn't allow herself to completely relax in his presence - ignoring of course the previous day when she all but curled up against him in the mansion. Scowling even more, she shook that thought away. Perhaps she never would be able to - should never be able to relax with him. There was just too much past between them.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she muttered, turning away before she made an even bigger fool of herself before the Pretender. And without another word, she walked towards the sole door in the room, her head held high and her heeled boots clicking on the hard floor. Amazingly enough, she was able to maintain this display just until she was safely hidden behind the door. Then, and only then, everything came crashing down as her shoulders slumped, a frown pulling at her lips as her eyes took in the broad hallway that spread before her. "Get it together, Parker," she berated herself softly as, now faced with no choice, she began down the hall in search of the elusive women's bathroom.

Muttering quietly to herself, Miss Parker's eyes swept along the empty hall, freezing on the slight form that was stumbling her way towards her. Startled, the girl's name left her lips as she broke from her paralysis and reached the girl, just as her weakened limbs collapsed from beneath her, sending her sagging into Miss Parker's arms. "Buffy!" she gasped, easing the girl down to the hard ground. "What are you-" she began, her words dying at the confusion portrayed in the girl's dark brown eyes.

"Hardly," the brunette retorted, her dark eyes flashing. "Sorry lady, but the name's Faith."

"Faith?" Miss Parker murmured, a frown pulling at her lips before it was replaced by a knowing smile. "Then it work-"

"Listen," Faith cut in, her eyes drifting back to the room she had just abandoned, "there's a dead guy in that room-"

On her feet before the girl had even finished, Miss Parker hurried to the room, her heart pounding heavily within her chest - only to still at the sight of Mr. Fletcher lying in a pool of his own blood. "Shit," she cursed, her eyes flashing as they turned to the empty hospital bed that had held a petite blond slayer just a few minutes before. "Shit!" she cursed again as she turned away and hurried back to the other slayer's side. "Listen, Faith, what happened? Where's Buffy?" she asked, the girl's gaze narrowing even further.

"B?" Faith returned, her expression shifting into one that slowly began to resemble concern. "I - I don't remember," she began, her voice faltering as she struggled to her feet.

"Faith," Parker quickly interrupted, her hard voice snapping the girl's attention back to her, "I need you to head that way and go in that door at the end of the hall," she instructed, waving in the direction that she had come from. "The others are there. Tell them that something has happened - the spell worked, but someone took Buffy. Tell them that I went after them!" she finished as she turned and began heading in the opposite direction.

"And how in the hell do you propose I do that?!" Faith cried out, her voice falling on deaf ears before she grimaced and turned back, her eyes following the long line of the hall. "Oh, you've got to be freaking kidding me!" she groaned before slowly gritting her teeth and starting her long trek. "B, you're gonna owe me big for this."

* * *

Pacing slowly, Xander allowed his gaze to drift over the room, now empty save the Scoobies and their friends from the Centre - and the Watcher guy, of course. "So... how long does this spell-thingie take, anyway?" he asked, eyes locking on the British-Watcher-Dude's eyes.

"As long as it takes," Samuel replied, his clipped tones betraying the fact that it wasn't the first time that he had answered the teen's same question.

Grunting noncommittally, Xander shrugged and continued to pace, stopping only when the door to the hall swung open behind him, admitting a familiar and stumbling figure. "Buffy!" he cried out, instantly by the girl's side as she fell against him.

For a moment, Faith sagged against her savior before both his stunned statement and his identity caused her to shove him away. "Xander, what the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped as she stumbled away from him, her legs finally giving way as she tumbled to an ungraceful heap on the floor. "And I don't know what crack you're smoking, but as I already told the other chick, I'm not B!" she added, a thick silence falling over the room as the group of Scoobies and strangers alike pulled back, eyes now watching her warily. But this suspicion was something that she was accustomed to - never something that she enjoyed, but with her memories coming flooding back, it was to be expected - which was why it completely floored her when Giles, of all people, broke away from the others and slowly knelt before her, concern flashing in his brown eyes.

"Faith, are you alright?" he asked, gently helping her to a chair as Buffy's words flashed through his mind - her words begging the others to give the rogue slayer the chance that Buffy believed that she deserved. "What do you remember?"

Completely thrown by Giles' treatment of her, Faith tried to sort through her confusing thoughts. "There was a fight, between B and I," she finally murmured, her eyes skipping away from his. "And then dreams... strange dreams. I - I was in trouble," she continued, a small frown pulling at her lips, "and I asked B to send help... but then B was in trouble and then it was like we kind of came together," she added, her brown eyes widening as she quickly looked to Giles' for confirmation that she wasn't really losing it.

"Yes, you saved her life," Giles confirmed, a small smile pulling at his lips. "You've been in a coma for close to a year now, yet even while in this state, you somehow managed to pull Buffy's mind within you."

Confused, Faith slowly shook her head before something else came back to her. "Oh yeah, and then I woke up to find myself in a hospital room with a dead guy," she began, the rest of her words dying away as some guy dressed in a suit, followed closely by Xander, Willow, and Oz bolted from the room. As Giles and a doctor went to follow, Faith quickly drew them back. "Hold up and let me finish!" she protested, her sharp tone doing the trick more than the words themselves. "Listen, that lady said to tell you guys that someone took B - the lady was going after them," she finished as a look of panic twisted the hot doctor's features.

"Miss Parker," the guy muttered before turning and hurrying away, Giles quickly on his heels... which left Faith alone in the waiting room.

"Well that went well," she muttered, stretching out aching limbs and slowly leaning back in the hard chair she occupied - which was when she got her first good look at the clothes she was wearing. "Oh, hell no!" she muttered, dark eyes taking in the loose-fitting khakis and sensible long-sleeve shirt. Grimacing, she noted that there wasn't an ounce of cleavage visible anywhere and that her usual curves were hidden beneath the baggy clothes. "Oh B, we're _really_ going to have a conversation when you get your little ass back here," she added as she stumbled to her feet, on a mission for a mirror to see what other damage had been done.

* * *

As the door rebounded off of the concrete wall behind her, Miss Parker swept into the parking garage, her gun cocked and ready. In seconds her brown eyes locked on the two figures standing only a few hundred feet away, Buffy's small form draped in Willie's arms. "Hold it right there!" she called out, her words freezing them as she hurried forward, her gun never wavering from her targets. As a feeling of deja vu swept over her, Miss Parker tried to push away memories of such a similar scene, played out only a few days ago. Only that time she had been on the receiving end of the gun and had been the one trying to bolt with a Slayer. "Put the girl down, Willie," she ordered, her voice cold as she finished the distance between them.

For a moment, it looked as though the trained sweeper was going to refuse before common sense kicked in. He had worked alongside Miss Parker for the past four years. He knew, probably better than most, that she wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. With a small shrug he slowly bent down and deposited his burden on the cold cement ground, the girl still and unmoving. Frowning, Miss Parker was about to tell him to use common sense and move the poor girl when Raines interrupted her thoughts.

"You know... that with the death of your brother... the Triumvirate has placed me in charge," he stated in between greedy lungfuls of air.

"So you finally got your wish," Miss Parker retorted, trying to shrug away his words. She had to remind herself that it had been forever ago since she had cared about what went on in the Centre - a complete lie, she knew. Even if she was cutting ties with the corporation that had run her life, it had been a part of that same life for far too long for Miss Parker to ever truly let it go. At least it no longer consumed her. "And if that's the case, what are you doing back in Sunnydale? Don't you have a business to run?" she asked snidely, her eyes never leaving her two opponents. She didn't need to be told that distractions could get her killed.

"To retrieve what's mine," Mr. Raines replied with a smile that seemed reptilian, his lips thin and discolored as he nodded towards Buffy's unconscious form.

Eyes narrowing, Miss Parker tried to control her disgust at his words. To think that it had been only days since she shared his mindset. She had spent the last four years convincing herself that Jarod was nothing more than a lab rat - property of the Centre that needed to be returned to its rightful place. Now Raines was spreading that view to the innocent girl whose life they had worked so hard at to ruin - a mind almost destroyed by their hands. Not any longer. "Back away from her," she order, her voice clipped.

Instantly Willie complied, taking a few steps away from Buffy while Raines began moving towards Miss Parker, his steps slow and assured. "As Mr. Lyle said to you yesterday, your father is dead," he said, relishing in the look of pain that flashed across Miss Parker's closed features, "along with his new wife, Brigitte, and her unborn child... and now Mr. Lyle," he rasped, his voice cold as he inspected her tall frame. "Would you really kill the only family that you have left in this world?"

At his words, Miss Parker couldn't help the harsh laughter that broke free, her features twisted with hatred. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Raines, but you're hardly what I'd consider family," she sneered, her eyes flickering over his tight features. "I've _always_ hated you - just like my mother."

Smiling, Raines slowly shook his bald head, his beady eyes dancing. "Your mother never hated me," he corrected, "for how could she hate the father of her children?"

As his words washed over her, Miss Parker felt her jaw drop, her eyes widening in shock, just as the stairwell door banged open behind her. Startled, Miss Parker turned reflexively, long enough to see Jarod and Giles pour through the doorway - but it was a moment too long. Even as she turned back she was swinging her gun towards the sweeper that was pulling his own pistol from his holster, taking advantage of her distraction just as they had been trained to do. Simultaneously, both Willie and Miss Parker fired their weapons, the rapport of the two guns deafening in the cavernous garage. And almost simultaneously, both bullets found their mark, sending both Miss Parker and Willie to the ground, unmoving, in a spray of blood.

"Parker!" Jarod called out, his voice cracking as he quickly began to move towards the downed woman, only to freeze as Raines pulled his own gun free and leveled it at the two men.

"Well now," Raines muttered, a scowl twisting his sharp features, "this complicates matters." Beady eyes quickly moved from Jarod to Giles, Buffy, and his dead sweeper, a bloody hole above his heart, and quickly his dilemma became obvious. With Willie dead and himself in no condition to carry the unconscious Slayer, he was at a quandary, of sorts. Sighing, he debated his options before waving his gun in Giles' direction, the watcher flinching away from the weapon. "Pick up the Slayer," he ordered, swinging his gun back to lock on the Pretender as the man quickly did as ordered, scooping the slight girl into his arms, grunting slightly against her dead weight. Nodding his head, he cracked a smile that caused Giles' blood to run cold. "It seems that you get your wish," he rasped as he indicated for Giles to walk towards him, "for you get to accompany your Ward and I to the Centre."

Confused, Jarod slowly shook his head. This wasn't what he had been expecting. "What about me?" he asked, unable to stop himself from voicing his confusion even as his eyes caught movement from the corner of his eye. Subtlety, he glanced to his right and nearly stumbled as he watched Miss Parker reach for her gun.

"I'm learning from the mistakes of my predecessors," Raines replied, drawing Jarod's attention once again. "I find you much more trouble than you're worth," he said as his finger tightened on the trigger.

For a moment Jarod wasn't able to process the fact that Raines had just signed his death warrant. And then, when his words finally filtered through and his meaning became clear, Jarod found himself speechless. This was the one turn of events that he had never anticipated from the Centre. Struggling with this thought, Jarod slowly turned away from the hollow barrel of the gun, his eyes instead searching out Miss Parker. And to think that he was never going to get the chance, after all, to do all that he had set out to do on the day that he escaped from the Centre... was never going to say all the things that he had still managed to leave unsaid. But the bullet never came.

As Jarod turned back to Raines, he saw the man's gun already swinging on an arc towards Miss Parker's downed form, having been alerted by Jarod's direct gaze. But before his gun could finish its deadly path, another gun shot rang out in the cold garage as a single bullet tore through Raines, leaving a bloody hole right between his eyes and exploding behind in a spray of dark matter. Shocked, Jarod watched as the man's dead body joined its comrade on the ground before quickly shaking off his paralysis and hurrying to the one that was still alive. "Parker, where are you hit?" he asked as he fell to his knees on the ground beside her, the hand holding the gun falling limply to her side.

"Shoulder," Miss Parker murmured, a painful grimace distorting her pale features. "Just lucky... Willie's a lousy shot," she laughed, her words dying under a hiss of agony as Jarod pushed down on the wound, hot red blood pooling around his fingers, a feeling of deja vu sweeping over her. What was with her and getting shot in the shoulder and Jarod coming to her rescue? But damn, she didn't remember the last time hurting quite this bad. And it was even the same freaking shoulder!

"Giles, get some help down here!" Jarod ordered, his eyes never leaving Miss Parker's as tears shimmered in her eyes. "Hang in there, Parker, hang on," he soothed, worry mixing with relief at seeing her still alive and fighting. When he had seen her go down... it felt as though a part of him died as well.

"Jarod," she whispered, dark eyes locking with his own as she weakly tried to lift a pale hand to rest on his own, blood staining both their skin, "sorry..."

"For what?" the Pretender asked, confusion clouding his features.

"For the last.. four years," she murmured, eyes fluttering before focusing on his face with characteristic Parker determination. The hell if she'd be passing out before this got said. It was just a shoulder wound, but you could never be too sure - there were complications and accidents all the time in hospitals. Then again, with Jarod beside her she knew that she'd be safe. He'd never let her down. Not like she had for so long. "I'm so sorry," she whispered again, a single tear breaking free and tracing down her cheek. From the pain, of course. Just because it hurt so much.

Smiling softly, Jarod wished that he could wipe her tear away. Instead, he contented himself with pressing even harder against the wound, causing the brunette to hiss in pain, her eyes flashing angrily at him. "Trust me when I say that your actions during the past few days have made up for anything that's happened in the past... Tommy would have been proud," he murmured, watching as her face softened and another tear broke free.

"I loved him," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion as a tremulous smile lifted her lips.

"And he loved you, too," Jarod assured, a small smile pulling at his lips. "He loved you more than anything in the world."

"He... just wanted me to be loved," she whispered, her smile faltering under a wave of tears.

"You are, more than you could ever know..."


	34. Chapter 34

**Twist of Fate: Chapter 34  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

Groaning, Buffy slowly swam up from the ocean of inky darkness that threatened to consume her. Within seconds, she felt something warm and soft encase her small hand, a slight pressure anchoring her as her eyes slowly fluttered open, the room's bright light searing her vision.

"Buffy?" Giles' voice called to her, pulling her from the depths of darkness as her eyes finally focused on his face, creased with so much hope and worry.

"Giles?" Buffy returned, her mouth feeling as though it was filled with cotton while her head ached like none other. At her words, she watched as Giles' smile brightened, tears brightening his green eyes as he lifted her hand and kissed it fiercely.

"Hey, your brain didn't go mush!" Xander noted from beside the Watcher, a matching grin pulling at his lips.

Smiling wearily, Buffy tried to nod her head, wincing at the pain, and instead settled for smiling softly. "No, I guess it didn't," she murmured, her eyes drifting shut for a moment before everything else came crashing back. "Is Faith okay?" she asked, her eyes shooting open and glancing around the room.

"Faith's fine," Giles assured, gently patting the hand that he still held. "She woke up a few minutes after the spell was completed. Willow and Oz are with her in the waiting room."

Smiling softly at his words, Buffy was about to nod again when she thought better of it, her eyes wearily fluttering before shooting open once again, her head turning quickly, despite the pain, and taking in what she had caught a glimpse of earlier: Miss Parker laid up in the hospital bed beside her, arm wrapped in a sling with Jarod, Sydney, and Broots at her side. "What happened?" she demanded, her tiredness forgotten under a wave of fear.

Grimacing slightly, Giles hesitated for a moment before slowly clearing his throat. "We, uh... we had a - a complication," he stuttered, watching as his Slayer's bright green eyes narrowed.

"So what happened?" she asked again, her tone turning dangerous. "Where's your friend and the witchy guy that did the mojo?"

"Mr. Fletcher is... Mr. Fletcher is dead," Giles explained haltingly, watching as Buffy paled even more, if it was possible, her eyes growing wide as comprehension filtered across her features.

"The Centre," she murmured, already knowing the gist of what happened without needing to be told. As tears blurred her vision, she weakly closed her eyes, willing them not to fall. She hated the tears for they displayed her weakness to the world, and that was one thing a Slayer was never supposed to be - what she was never supposed to be. Sniffling, she felt Giles squeeze her hand as she opened her watery eyes and met the concerned ones of her Watcher. "Giles, I'm like Jarod now," she murmured, hating the way her voice cracked over her words. "I'll never be free of them-"

"Raines can't hurt you any longer," Miss Parker interrupted from the bed beside them, having overheard their muffled exchange. With a cold look, she let her eyes carry the meaning of her words. "Not anymore."

"It doesn't matter," Buffy returned, her expression bleak. "With Lyle and Raines gone, someone else will step up and come again. They'll never give up - they never gave up on hunting Jarod and now they'll never give up on hunting me," she whispered, feeling the truth behind her words with everything in her being.

"On the contrary," a new voice added as Samuel stepped into the room, his suit jacket draped over one arm and his eyes sad and tired, "neither of you have to worry about the Centre anymore." At the identical looks of disbelief from both Buffy and Jarod, Samuel quietly closed the door behind him and moved further into the room. "I've been on the phone with the Council for some time now, and let's just say that we've made the Triumvirate an offer that they couldn't refuse," he said with a grim smile. "The Centre is now owned by the Watcher's Council."

Snorting softly, Xander quickly shook his head. "Oh yeah, 'cause that's any more reassuring!"

"Under the Centre's new leadership, it should be," he countered, piquing the interest of the ex-Centre personnel, just as he knew it would.

"Who?" Miss Parker asked, hating herself for her interest but unable to stop the question.

Turning, Samuel Fellows allowed his eyes to take in the woman who was laid up in the bed beside the Council's slayer. Her sharp features were pale and dark circles lined her eyes, shoulder and right arm secured against her body by a white sling, hair mussed around her face. Yet despite everything, she was still beautiful - still a force to be reckoned with... and a good ally, as she proved when she had hurried after Buffy Summers and killed to keep them all safe. Was wounded to save the Council's slayer. "I've been told," he began, his eyes locking with hers, "that the Centre has always been run by a Parker."

"My grandfather founded the Centre," Miss Parker confirmed, suspicion tightening her features, her gaze skipping over to take in the friends that surrounded her.

"Well, as the last of the Parker line, will you accept our offer to return to the Centre as Director?" he asked, enjoying the way that his words left her face slack in surprise.

"You've.. you've got to be kidding me," she murmured, her thoughts a whirlwind. Her mother and Tommy had wanted nothing more than to free her of the chains of the Centre, and she had finally done that. But now.. now she was being offered the chance to not only return to the Centre, the one place that had truly been her home since she was a small child, but to return as the Head Director - the one who made all of the decisions. It was the position that her father had groomed her for, and now that it was being offered, she found herself filled with doubts. How could she return to a place of such evil? A place that had caused so much pain and suffering? Especially to those right there in the room with her? "I could-"

"Wait, Parker," Jarod interrupted, his eyes shining as he quickly bent down and locked eyes with her. "Think about this," he urged, a slow smile building. "You said yourself that not everything that comes out of the Centre is bad, and that there are plenty of good people that work there," he continued, nodding at both Sydney and Broots who watched with undisguised interest. "With you in charge you could turn the place around! Close down the sublevels and shut down all of the unethical projects - support the ones that could be used for good purposes!"

Floored, Miss Parker listened to Jarod's words and couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement, a spark of hope at the possibilities that were now open to them all. Jarod was right that they finally had the chance to turn the Centre into the place that her mother had believed in - a different place than the one that was created by her grandfather, continued with her father, and ended with her brother. But with thoughts of her family, all the old doubts came crashing back with the force of a tidal wave. How could she guarantee that in the end she wouldn't end up just as twisted as anyone else in her family? Yeah, so she was the mirror image of her mother - she had already proven more times than she could count that such a resemblance didn't guarantee the same decisions would be made - the same compassion shared. She was trying, damnit, but she had a lot to atone for - and too much of her father still ran through her blood. How could she ensure that the Centre would be any different under her hand, no matter how noble her intentions began? "I... I can't do this," she finally murmured, wide eyes lifting to meet those of Sydney, Broots, and Jarod. "I can't do this alone."

Smiling softly, Jarod reached down and took her free hand in his own. "You don't have to," he murmured, watching as a wave of new emotions swept across her features. "Maybe it's time for me to go home after all," he added, feeling Sydney start behind him at his words. "After all, with the others gone and you in charge, the Centre has the real potential to become the place that I grew up believing in."

"And with you guys running the place," Buffy supplied from the bed beside hers, a weary smile lifting her lips, "maybe I won't have to go in commando style with my trusty rocket launcher after all."

Laughing softly at her words, not quite sure if she meant them or not, Samuel turned back to the group by the second bed, his eyes taking in the way that they banded together more as family than mere coworkers or even friends. This group would do amazing things with the Council's newest investment. Great, great things. "So do you accept?" he asked, watching as the woman's features smoothed into a serene smile - an expression that seemed to fit her face somehow, even though he was sure it wasn't customary for her.

"I accept," she murmured simply, feeling Jarod's hand tighten around her. "We accept," she amended, risking a glance to the people that surrounded her.

"Then it's settled," Samuel said, his tone brisk. "And with that I think we should all clear out and allow these young women some well deserved rest," he said, eyes skipping over to lock on his exhausted Slayer. "But before I go," he murmured, slowly stepping towards the bed, one hand withdrawing a small bottle from beneath his coat and setting it on the table by her head. "Drink this later," he instructed, his kind eyes tracing the bandages that marred the girl's pretty face. "It should help in the healing and will speed up the re-growth of your hair."

"Did you have to remind me?" Buffy murmured sleepily, one hand slowly lifting to finger the bandages that covered her hairless head. "I was trying to forget my baldness," she muttered as her eyes drifted to the bottle before turning to her Watcher, a question in her eyes.

Seeing the question there, Giles slowly nodded his head. "It's alright, Buffy, I promise that it will only help," he assured, squeezing her hand before slowly moving with the others towards the door - only to pause as her weak voice called him back.

"Giles... could you... could you just stay until I'm asleep?" she asked, sounding so young and small - so unlike the Buffy Summers he had come to know, train, and love over the past four years. And by the way her eyes dipped down to rest on the pale sheets that covered her, Giles knew how much her words had cost her.

Smiling gently, he quickly waved the others on and returned to his Slayer's side, pulling up a chair and settling into its confines. As a soft sigh left her lips, he watched as her eyes began to flutter slightly - dark lashes against pale skin. For a moment he allowed his gaze to trace over his slayer's small features, lines eased as sleep claimed her once again.

A lot had happened to his precious slayer in the past few months, in the past year, and he knew that it would take far longer for those scars to heal than for her hair to re-grow or for the scars of her surgery to fade. Her internal scars may never disappear, and perhaps the Centre would always haunt her steps. But in a future that was so uncertain, there was one thing that he could be assured of. She wasn't alone. Buffy would never be alone again, would never have to face such obstacles and trials alone. He was never going to give up on his Slayer, no matter what twist fate threw at them. Somehow, they would make it through, just as they always did, time and time again. Just as they would always continue to do so.

**Now take my hand and hold it tight. I will not fail you here tonight.  
For failing you, I fail myself and place my soul upon a shelf in  
Hells library without light. I will not fail you here tonight.**  
-The Book of Counted Sorrows-

**The End**


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